Sour Patch Kid Day

Most days I don’t feel like this single parenting thing is all that hard. Of course it has it struggles, but somewhere along the line I got used to it, and the average day I have every confidence in myself that I will be able to raise these two little girls into respectable adults on my own. Then I have a day like today, and that whole thought process goes out the window, and I’m left crying on my couch wondering how the hell I’m going to pull this off, and feeling like a terrible mother. I’m not sure what brings on these kinds of days. Yesterday was a normal day, I got a good night’s sleep last night, and nothing significant has happened to cause any stress. None of that mattered though when I woke up to the typical constant bad attitudes, arguing, fighting, whining and crying that comes along with having a three and four year old. Most days I’m pretty patient for the most part, and it doesn’t bother me all that much. Sure it gets annoying, but nothing like today. Today it was like constant nails on a chalk board. By 9:30am I was done, and ready to lock myself in a sound proof room and cover my head.

I had to make a trip up to my old work, so I loaded them up and we took a drive, most of which I had the radio turned up so it was easier to ignore the arguing and tattling going on behind me.

“Mom, she touched my car seat! Make her stop!”

“She’s looking at me! Tell her to stop looking at me!”

“She keeps trying to talk to me, and I don’t want to hear her voice right now!”

At which point I vaguely remember responding with “I don’t really want to hear your voice right now either, too bad you keep talking.”

Yes, I’m aware that’s not the most positive or best thing to say to your child, but we can’t be positive all the time. I’m sure she’ll survive, with plenty of confidence to spare. Forty-five minutes later, we finally arrived, and went inside the building. They were definitely crazy acting. Running around, some playful screaming, just being loud in general, but at least they were still being cute and sweet for the women I used to work with. When it was time to leave, they convinced me to take them on a lunch date.

“I promise we won’t be crazy at the restaurant Mommy. You know though, all those girls you worked with still really liked us, even though we were acting crazy.”

They kept their promise, and were perfectly behaved little girls all through lunch. I couldn’t believe I was sitting with the same children I woke up with that morning. They went back to the morning behavior as soon as we were back in the car, and away from the public’s eye though. The fighting started before I had even started the car. It was a nice day today, and they asked to have their windows down. I never roll the windows all the way down, because I don’t want them throwing anything out the window. Not that I think they would at their ages, but you always see the one lone baby shoe on the side of the road, so it’s just something I’ve always done. I leave it down just enough that they can reach up and feel the wind on their little finger tips. Apparently, that’s not high enough though. They were arguing about something insignificant while I’m driving down the highway, and I look in my review mirror to see my oldest throwing things out the window in anger. I was shocked and furious. Of course I got onto her, which made her even madder. And then she asked me to turn around and go get her stuff, which even if I could have I’m not sure I would have at that point, but we were on a big split highway so I couldn’t anyway. This made her furious. So in her anger she decided to unbuckle herself and stand up out of her booster seat. I pull over on the side of the highway, give her a swat on the butt as I’m yelling at her, and as I’m putting her back in her seat and buckling her up, I notice a police officer has pulled up behind me and is getting out of his car. He asked if everything was okay, and I told him everything was fine I was just dealing with my children. I know he was probably just making sure I hadn’t broke down or anything, and didn’t need any help, so I tried to be as friendly as I could in the situation. He asked what exactly was going on, and I held in my string of venting I wanted to throw at him, and told him my daughter unbuckled herself and I was buckling her back up. I hoped he was smart enough not to mention the spanking, and he was.

The twenty minute drive home after that incident was spent with her crying, and her younger sister impatiently telling her to be quiet, because it was hurting her ears. When we arrived home it was straight to bed for them. My youngest went down without a fight as usual, and my oldest was planning on going down without a fight, until she couldn’t find the right stuffed animal. I’m already at my wits end at this point, and cannot even fathom searching for this stuffed animal so she would be happy. I told her she was just going to have to sleep with a different friend today. This is when all hell broke loose. Kicking, screaming, and throwing things. Complete and utter melt down, for thirty-five minutes. Her melt down triggered a Mommy melt down. I’m aware that my losing my temper, and throwing an adult tantrum didn’t help matters at all. I eventually shut her bedroom door, told her not to open it, and sat on the couch taking deep breaths trying to calm myself down. Ten minutes later I was calmed down, and so was she from the sound coming from her room, which was finally silence. I was also ashamed of myself for not having more patience with her. That melt down is not the kind of things I want my children to remember when they’re older. I walked in her room, climbed in her toddler size bed with her and held her in my arms. I told her I was sorry I acted the way I did, and that I lost my temper. I told her that she shouldn’t have acted the way she did, but I shouldn’t have either. At which point I started getting teary, and I told her sometimes it’s really hard doing everything on my own, and that I need her to try to listen and behave, to help me out. She gave me lots of hugs and kisses, and said that she knows, and she’ll try not to act like that again, and I told her I would try not to act like that again too. After we snuggled for a while, we said her naptime prayers, and I tucked her in. I realized that my youngest most likely heard the commotion, so I walked in her room to tell her I was sorry for yelling so much. She was already snoring, and apparently didn’t care enough to let it keep her from her sleep.

This is when I laid on the couch and started crying. These are the moments I don’t know if I can do this on my own. If I can do this right. If I can somehow be a good enough mom, to make up for not having a dad. Most days I feel like I’m enough for them, but today was not one of those days. So I turned my phone on silent, ran myself a hot bath, drank a glass of wine, and then fell asleep on the couch trying not to feel too horrible about myself, and the mother that I was today.

My little girl didn’t end up falling asleep for nap, but she did lie there quietly the whole time, and when she came out of her room when naptime was over, she wasn’t the same little girl that was throwing things at me earlier, and I wasn’t the same mommy that was screaming at her to knock it off. The rest of the evening she was overly affectionate, sweet, and goofy, and I didn’t feel like I was about to snap. We read lots of books, had a picnic dinner on the living room floor while we watched a movie, and I let them split a grape soda, which I’m pretty sure is the first soda they’ve ever drank. I tucked my little girls in bed and said their prayers, and my little girl I wanted to get away from earlier gave me a kiss on the cheek, then a kiss on the lips and said “I love you Mommy. You’re a good mommy.” And when that made me get teary, she told me that wasn’t supposed to make me cry, it was supposed to make me happy.

Now they’re sound asleep, and I’m sitting on my couch hoping I’m not the only parent out there that has these kinds of days.