Well, it happened. It came early in the morning of Day Three. I yelled. I yelled bad. And maybe it wouldn’t have seemed as bad if I hadn’t raised my voice in 61 hours. But here’s the worst part: It kinda felt good. To let it out. To let loose. But then it felt bad. Really bad.
The incident was over a boot. There was an itch inside that boot that couldn’t be reached without removing said boot along with the sock. Moments before we needed to walk out the door. Mama already had her coat on and coffee in hand. Mama was hot. Long story long: The boot needed help coming off which forced Mama to put down the 27 million bags on her arm, the two pairs of snow pants, nap mat, cell phone and coffee. Following the scratching of the itch, Mama picks up the 27 million bags again, snow pants, nap mat, cell phone and coffee. But there’s a new problem. Child “can’t” replace the boot and the sock is “sticky”. Child needs help. I yell. You don’d need help! You can do it by yourself! You need to put that boot on your foot. We are going to be late! I am going to be late! (Again, totally about me.) I storm out the door, throw the 27 million bags in the car and spilled my damn coffee. Fuck. I take a breath. Okay. Going back into the house, now, I am sure I’ll find the sock nicely smoothed out, the boot back on and a smiling child waiting for me to whisk him off to school. Ha. Dummy. There was more yelling but it was coming from him now. My yelling of course provided him with ammo and permission to let me have it. I got bitched out by a four year old. And then I smoothed his sock. I replaced his boot and whisked him off to school.
Why the hell did I not help him to begin with if I knew I was going to do it in the end? He couldn’t get the boot off to begin with. He asked for help and I yelled at him. He yelled at me and then I helped him. Then it occurs to me: See, honey! I taught you that yelling gets you what you want! If you yell, people do the things you want them to do! Mama Fail.
So what did I do? I apologized the shit out of our car ride to school. I explained in ways (far too advanced for him) why yelling is wrong. Why I was sorry and why I’m going to try not to let it happen again. As we pull into the parking lot, I look back at him. I’m really sorry buddy. “Mama?” Yes? “Did you pack me the pizza bunny crackers for lunch?” And there you have it. Resilient parents have resilient children.
Here’s to getting back on the horse!