It’s 7:41 a.m. and I’ve already lost it on my kids.
They’ve spent the last 30 minutes fighting and are just plain obnoxious. And upon observing my own behavior, it appears I’ve become one of them.
There’s pee everywhere. The bathroom looks like a tsunami hit it. The kitchen floor is dotted with chunks of cold waffle, syrup side down. And by the way my kids are hollering, you’d think brushing their teeth equated to actual torture.
There’s no easing into the day over here. The house goes from silent to psychotic the moment the children open their eyes. One minute the house is still as I take my first sip of tea, and the next it’s a complete circus.
Some days I handle it well, but some days I don’t. And today is one of those days. I’ve already yelled. More than once. I’ve slammed the bathroom door like a kid who just got sent to time out – as if anyone needed another demonstration as to what kind of mood I’m in. I’ve thrown a fit about the state of the house, which had no effect on my kids whatsoever. And actually their lack of response to my fit was a pretty good example of how I can improve my response to their fit throwing. Who’s teaching whom?
We haven’t even finished breakfast and I feel defeated. My heart is steeped in guilt and the day has barely begun.
It’s days like this when patience is low. When energy is scarce. When the ability to be the mom I want to be is lacking.
But it’s also days like this when I realize that grace is never in short supply. And that truth makes me more able to offer it to my kids.