I did it again. I let it boil and heat up inside me. Then like a volcano I explode. This time the littlest took the brunt of the impact. She’s a screamer at the end of the day. The kind of scream that makes you think bad thoughts. The kind of scream that pushes even the calmest of moms to a point they never thought possible.
The others want popcorn. And why not? I did offer it to them. But now. After this. I want nothing to do with Saturday evening fun. Snuggles. Bedtime. None. I want them in bed and I want to take a glass of wine into the shower and scream.
I sit here thinking just find it in there to turn it around. It’s not done yet. Today is still here. They don’t know I lost it. Curious George has been their babysitter while the baby and I work things out. They will be so sad when I hurry them to bed and yell about their attitudes.
I must turn this around. I am not a failure. Just weak. And tired. And frustrated. It doesn’t matter to them that I am tired. They want fun and I must dig deep to say no to defeat and yes to popcorn and snuggles. Even if it is all a mess. Or my feet hurt. Or I feel stretched so thin. Motherhood is a process of stretching. Our skin at first. Our hearts with our first sight of them. Our souls. Our emotions. All stretched for these little people. All so that they have the chance to grow to be big people who don’t make the same mistakes I do. Who don’t become so overwhelmed with anger. Who don’t make sweet cheeks hot with tears because mom was mean.
I must go make popcorn. I must do it to show myself I can. CAN turn this around.