Something ridiculous happened the other day: I purposely made my sweet, 2 year-old girl cry.
What kind of mother does that?
What kind of mother does that?
Don’t answer; I know the answer already! And that’s not at all who I am...the type of mother I am.
When I PMS, it’s something fierce. I get extremely irritable and uncomfortable. Lately the cramps wrap around my body to my back, too. This is when I want nothing more than to rock myself in a dark corner of a room with all the shit food I could jam down my pie hole. Honestly, the PMS gets so bad that I tend to shy away from people to avoid evil looks or comments that I may emit. But my kid? My sweet little 2 year old girl? I can’t really stay away from her.
So Sunday- after playing at the park, eating lunch, and napping- Lovie was playing with some play-dough in her high chair (the only place I’ll allow her to play with it- strapped in and play-dough in site). And I joined her. Make a snowman, Mama? Make a house? Make a dog? Make Zoe? (the cat)
At one point I was making a dog and she went to grab for the play-dough to Make a big circle and I barked, “NO!”
I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t say it quietly. I barked at her.
Like a fucking mad dog.
She quickly took back her hand and looked down at her play-dough and I thought I was going to vomit from disgust.
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME THAT I WOULD BARK AT MY GIRL OVER FUCKING PLAY-DOUGH?!?
“Honey,” I said, still squishing the dough. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to yell like that.”
She wouldn’t look at me.
I touched her silky soft chin and told her again, very gently, how sorry I was.
When our eyes met… well… I’m honestly not sure how I held the vomit inside. But I did. And instead, I let the tears out as hers rolled down her sweet round cheeks.
“Please don’t cry, baby girl,” I said, “Mama didn’t mean that; I’m really so very sorry.”
She looked so unbelievably sad...and hurt.
And it was because of me- her mama.
Shortly after, she cheered up- we both did. Daddy gave her a bath and got her dressed for bed. We all watched Bubble Guppies- Lovie on her little chair, me sprawled on the couch with my phone playing Words with Friends, the husband trying to download more episodes.
After a minute she looked back at me and got up and climbed onto the couch to sit with me. Like she does every single night.
I sat more upright so I could get my arm around her as she folded into me. Every so often she’d gently lay her head on my breast or tummy. I scooped her into me more closely so that she melted into me.
My Lovie and me.
That’s the mama I am- the one she leans on whenever she needs, the one she snuggles with every night, the one who reads her favorite stories over and over and over again, the one who sings silly songs with her...
Not that mean bitch who wouldn’t let her play with the play-dough.
It’s one thing for my child to be upset at me because we have to leave the park, but for something like barking at her? Hell No. It’s unacceptable. And it will not happen again. It can't. We both are better than that.
I mean, I totally get this kind of stuff happens with parenting. We're not friggin robots, we're human beings and sometimes even the most patient (of which I absolutely am not) lose it sometimes. And I know... I know she won't remember this one incident. But the thing is, I have a feeling if I just let it go and not really acknowledge it, I'll fall back on these same excuses again and again and my behavior will snowball. And she will start remembering and probably start behaving in the same fashion. Then what?
It's just something I really don't want to find out. And besides all that, she deserves more from me.