If you looked up “jerk” in the dictionary at about 7:00 am this morning, you would have seen my face. I was a total jerk to my middle guy, almost five, normally sweet and hilarious, most-of-the-time good listener, blue eyed cutie, on his third day of having strep throat and being on antibiotics, on his first day, back to school, after being out four days in a row.
There was my yelling and a getting dressed episode which required me to physically put a little boy’s very uncooperative arms and legs into little shirt and jeans. It was NOT pretty.
There was a battle over two halves of chewable Amoxicillin chunks and Apple Jacks which required me to shove said small items into a small, teeth-clenched mouth. It was NOT pretty.
Me slamming around trying to find my missing keys, tears running down my face, loud sobs coming from a place of intense frustration and guilt. It was NOT pretty.
The thought that Child and Youth Services was going to break down my front door for being such a terrible and impatient Mom. It was NOT pretty.
Three saving graces…hugs and ‘I love yous’ with my guy at drop off, my good friend’s words of reassurance that we all have those mornings, my husband’s response to my text, “You are not a terrible mother babe.”
Sometimes, life is NOT pretty.