At 4 PM today, as I was busy icing a batch of pumpkin drop cookies that Builder Boy had helped me make, I was congratulating myself on being a great mom today. It's been a long while since Builder Boy and I have had an entire day with no plans, appointments, or commitments, and since it is frigid here, I planned early in the week that we would hibernate. I planned ahead...I thought of all the things we could do so we didn't have that, "I'm bored, now what?!" moment. And so, we started our day being lazy and cuddling in my bed. We came downstairs and played with knights. We read books. We did puzzles. We played with the Batcave. We baked cookies. We talked and laughed and tickled. For the first time in a long time, it was a perfect day without too many temperamental episodes from either of us. He even "let" me do some work while he played independently (please take a moment to remove your jaw from the floor...). He did watch a bit of tv, but nothing more than the experts agree is okay. It felt so great. I felt like one of "those moms." I felt authentic.
And then 4 PM rolled around...it was like a switch went off. I know logically that this is a bad time of day for preschoolers. He gets tired. He won't nap. Even after a snack and some downtime, he was still freaking out at the slightest thing. He sobbed because an emergency test thing came on during an episode of the Backyardigans. He threw toys when I told him it was time for dinner. He pulled at his hair when I asked that he be quiet while Remodel Man talked on the phone to a client. I thought maybe he had gotten my attention much of the day, but since I had been fixing dinner, icing his cookies, etc., he was mad he wasn't the center of my attention still. So I got back on the floor and tried to play with him. Only thing is, if you don't do exactly as he says, he gets mad. He freaks out. I've tried to tell him over and over that people don't like to play with bossy people. Granted, he concocts the most imaginative stories you can imagine. He knows down to the slightest detail exactly how he wants this story to play out. However, it's boring for us. He even tells us what to say. Add that to the boy toys issue (I'm a girl...I have a hard time with the constant battle of good vs. evil with whatever toy is handy) and I'm bored and boring. So I went out on a limb and tried to be original in my play and he flipped out again, this time throwing a toy at me. All day I had been the model mom, but I had had it. While I remained calm, I wasn't fun anymore. It was tubby time.
The bath was fine. Mostly fun, a lot wet, but fine. And then when I was drying him off, he was pulling my hair to hold his balance, and banging into me, and being a bit crazy for almost bedtime. I got crabby-like he had been with me for three hours. As we walked out of the bathroom to head to his room, he said very seriously, "Mama, why are you so mean?" I know, I know, kids say these things. They're not trying to be hurtful. I'm the adult. Blah blah blah. It hurt. It hurt a lot. I made such an effort to ignore the days worth of grading I have to do. The work calls I needed to make. The cleaning and dishes and laundry. I gave up all my stress today to be the kind of mom I always want to be, but don't have the energy for. And he slaps me with this.
I silently walked to his room and got him ready for bed. He knew I was upset. He apologized again and again. And again and again I told him that it wasn't his apology I wanted, but for him to not act these ways again and not to say hurtful things to me. I know. He's too little to understand. I know all the rational crap I would tell you if you were writing this, but the fact of the matter is this-I worked my butt off today and was so darned proud of myself for being a great mom and it all went to poop.
I am constantly overwhelmed by my mom guilt. Others can laugh about it and let it go, but it consumes me. When Builder Boy goes to bed, I wallow over every moment lost, every opportunity abandoned, every mistake and misspoken word. I long to go back to his baby days and start over, knowing what I know now. (Please, let's not even start talking about infertility and how this impacts every moment with Builder Boy, too...) I vow to speak nicer, have more patience, play more the next day. I pray every night that the Lord guides me to be a better mom. A stronger woman. A wonderful role model. And then dawn breaks and out the window go all the promises. Life happens. Temper tantrums happen. Work happens. I'm tired of it.
And so my "almost a snow day" (because I didn't have to work anyways today...) went from lovely day to the same old nightmare. I really should've written this at 4 PM...