The day before had been one of the best in recent memory with my kids. But there we were the following morning, barely even daybreak, and it was already shaping up to be one of those days that you’re just counting down the minutes until bedtime.
How could things change so drastically overnight?
The truth is, they didn’t.
Just as she does every day, my toddler emptied the under-sink cabinet while I got myself ready, gouged a few chunks out of my deodorant stick, and exhaustively examined every item in sight. This kept her happy and occupied until she realized she didn’t have her blanket with her, at which time she burst into panicked tears. When I gently suggested she go to her room to find it, she shrieked back at me, “NO YOU GO FIND IT!”
Goodness.
And then, her brother woke. Immediately, the whining began. “I’m so huuuuungryyyyyy. I need breeeeakfast…” And so we marched into the kitchen, the three of us, to review our breakfast options. Which, apparently, were not acceptable as eye-rolling commenced.
OH MY WORD THE EYE-ROLLING.
None of this was new. All of it was familiar. But still, the day was evoking emotions of incredible frustration within the depths of my soul, and all I could think was, What is the deal with these kids? Why is this already shaping up to be such a hard day?
And the answer came back softly.
It’s not them, mama. It’s you.
And I realized it was the truth. My oldest, he is obedient and mild-tempered. But he does have a tendency toward whining and poor attitude that needs frequent, gentle acknowledgement and redirection to make him aware of it.
And my daughter, she needs to be included and feel like she’s a part of things. And suggesting that we go look for her lost blanket together usually yields a much calmer, productive response.
It wasn’t them. It was me.
I don’t know what makes us feel and react differently from day to day. Hormones? It’s probably hormones.
{It’s always hormones, isn’t it? Easy target.}
But if you’re anything like me, when the day feels like it’s taking a downhill turn, you feel the heat. The heat that starts to radiate – from your chest, from your shoulders, maybe even your knees. The heat that threatens to overtake you and turn you into that monster of a mother and steal your joy and ruin your day.
And that morning, I was determined not to let it. So as my 2-year-old started to get into more mischief, I scooped her in my arms and looked deep into her eyes and we giggled and played the kissy-kissy-tickle game because it’s impossible to be angry while looking into adorable eyes and getting kissed by your baby.
And when my son’s tone started to take on that sarcasm that grates on the very last of my nerves, I laughed. I laughed and I joked and said, “Was that a rude tone that I heard?” in the cheeriest voice I could muster. And he sheepishly changed his attitude and issued a quick but heartfelt “Sorry.”
And then, making sure I was looking his way, he rolled his eyes at me dramatically right before bursting into uncontrollable laughter.
As the day wore on, the heat subsided. It wasn’t magical and it wasn’t immediate but the day was salvaged and I didn’t spend twelve hours waiting impatiently for bedtime.
I changed me, and the way I responded. Because while kids certainly have their good and bad days, I believe that the vast majority of the “bad days” aren’t because of them.
As much as I hate to admit it, a lot of times they’re because of me.
