Bad Mommy Days

I haven’t posted in some days, mostly  because in the past several days, we traveled home from Wichita, have been settling back in, then I had Crop Club on Sunday...it’s been busy!  And during all of this I’ve had some bad “mommy days.”  Meaning, I’ve had days where I feel I continually fail as a parent.

There are days when my dear, sweet boys seem to demand more, to whine more, to want more than usual -- and all at the same time.  And on those days, my patience wears thin...thinner...thinnest. 

I wish my waistline would mimic my patience.  Or, even better -- that my patience would mimic my waistline!!  That would be even better.  I'd rather be a fat, patient mommy than a thin, impatient mommy.

Unfortunately, I feel that most of the time, I am just a fat, impatient mommy.  Worst of both worlds.

My poor boys. 

Yesterday morning, the boys went outside to play in the mud.  This is currently their favorite past-time.  However, the neighbors have some sort of standing water in their backyard -- we are not sure what it is, but we can smell it and we know it must be there, largely because of the mosquitos that are lurking everywhere.  I didn't realize this until they'd been outside for about five minutes already -- so I brought them back inside and got them sprayed down with bug repellant.  However, the damage had been done.  Especially on poor Sam.  He must taste sweeter to the mosquitos than Ben does, because he has nearly double the bites. 

In addition to mosquito bites, he has some type of trouble with his little bottom -- an itchy type of trouble.  So this morning, after a restless night of not much sleep (for anyone), he was squirming around with all the itches he had going on with his little body.  I applied calamine lotion to both boys' bites, cream to Sam's bottom, and we were waiting for it all to kick in and the itching to stop, cuddled up on the couch together, watching Curious George. 

Bryan had made a cup of coffee for me before he left for work, and had set it on the end table, away from the reach of the boys.  I'd had about two drinks of it, with all the chaos of itchiness going on around me.

Then it happened.  Sam.  Kicked. 

Somehow, that baby (he does have very long legs) managed to kick my coffee right over -- spilling it all over the end table, and of course (being nearly full -- since I'd only been able to have two drinks from it) it went down the table....down....down...to...our...carpet.  

It was not a fun time for us.  Mommy lost her patience.  Sam forgot he was itchy, because he was watching the Mommy Show of Crazy-Fast-Clean-Up and Frustrated-Ranting about kicky-kids-with-long-legs-spilling-coffee-who-wake-up-too-early.

I retreated to my bedroom to cool off, after I cleaned up the coffee, and made myself another cup.

But I felt so bad that I just sat in my room, idly watching the Today Show and letting my new cup of coffee go cold.  I felt I was the worst mother in the world.

Then...they came.  Both boys came creeping down the hall, knocking on the door, actually wanting to see me.  I couldn't believe it.  Why would they want to be around me?  But they did.  They still love me.  And I love them.  Fiercely. 

So we made up -- and now they are outside, lathered in bug repellant, gleefully making mud pies. 

Isn't there a quote, or maybe it's a Bible verse, somewhere out there about the love of a child?  I can't remember exactly what it is.   But the love of children is amazing.  It's nearly like the love of God -- unconditional, forgiving, merciful. 

I don't deserve it -- but I am grateful beyond measure for it.  There's something nearly healing in the love of children...nearly like that of the love of God.