Is it really a good idea to blog about feeling like you're a bad mom at 2:56 in the morning? No, it's probably not a good idea, but I think I'm going to do it anyway, just because maybe it will make me feel better, and maybe someone will read it who's also feeling like they didn't have their best day at Motherhood, Inc., and will know they're not alone.
I don't want to go into specifics, because I'm too tired and the specifics are a little boring anyway. But let's just say that I felt like last night, when it came to my kid, I was a bonehead and a failure.
I feel like as a mom, I'm always supposed to know the right thing to do and when to do it. I'm always supposed to know when to hold 'em, fold 'em, walk away, or run. In other words, I should know those things to which I should react sternly, negatively, and hot-headedly (I know, it's totally not a word) and those things to which I should react with love, caring, and understanding.
And last night I felt like I dropped the ball.
The happy ending is that after I had the blow-up that I shouldn't have had, and wiped tears that shouldn't have come, I was able to bond with my sweet girl and make it all better. I'm lucky in that I have laid a pretty good foundation, and the kid knows I'm nuts about her. She knows I'm the one who loves her best and loves her most and always will. And even when she won't say it or she doesn't want to talk to me when I call her from work, badly in need of a Kayla fix, I know she loves me best and most, too. After all, I am Mommy.
You might not believe me, but right now I'm starting to cry. Heck, if you know me at all you know it's true. If for no other reason than you know I'm a little bit of an emotional wreck, so if you put that together with three o'clock in the morning and writing about the kid, ding ding! You've got tears.
After this little fiasco in parenting went down we had a wonderful evening of cuddling and giggling. So much giggling - I took one of her dolls and was patting it on his back, pretending to burp him and then having him say, "BURP," and the kid was practically rolling on the floor. Three-year-olds are hecka cool in that they are a very good audience for silliness, and when my three-year-old giggles with delight, well, frankly there's nothing better. But even though we had this wonderful evening, I am still kicking myself for being a bad mom, and wishing like anything morning would hurry up and get here so I could spend more time with her, showing her how much I love her, and trying to make up for being such a bonehead.
So in the meantime, I write. And I take consolation in the fact that I learned something last night and hopefully that will make me a better mom. As long as I keep trying to get better at it, at least I'm going in the right direction.