Momming

The Morning After

“Jimmy, clean up those blocks. Gabe, pick-up those trains and put them in the red basket.”

“What happened to this box of tissues?”

“I know you want to read, just give me a second. I have to finish unloading the dishwasher.” 

“If you would have helped clean-up, we could be reading on the couch together, right now.”

“Please. Go to the Playroom. Go sit. Now.”

“Why do you boys not listen? Why is it so hard for you? You need to listen right away to adults.”

5 minutes into finally sitting down and reading a book together, my youngest lays his head on my shoulder and through a deep breath and while I am in mid-sentence he whispers, “I am sorry for not sitting on the couch, Mommy. We will listen.”

The same heart-sinking, depleted wave of guilt rushes over my body from my face to my toes. 

Are you crying for me? Me, too.

Why do I overreact? It’s not even true – whether the playroom is cleaned up or not, who cares. Reading together on the couch is more important than a cleaner playroom, and every one of my angry statements is probably a fallacy. I am a walking contradiction.

Am I a working woman?

Am I a mother?

Am I a working-mother?

Am I even good at being any one of these things, let alone more than one?

As I sit here, the first one awake for the day in our home, and try to stomach my cup of coffee – my favorite thing – the morning after guilt looms over me and I am sure washes over all of my expression. It’s worse than a hangover, maybe because I chose to let the situation and the moment get the better of my limited time with my boys. 

When I try to rationalize the way I reacted once again, I know it wasn’t rational. When I try to logically thread together why I said what I said to these two little humans who are soaking in every verbal and physical thing happening around them, there isn’t a good reason. I just did. I was overwhelmed. I was annoyed. I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t being their mom, first.

And yet, THEY reacted logically. They scurried onto the couch faster than you can say “GO”. They looked up at me with the biggest, saddest eyes expectantly. They cuddled their blankets a little tighter. And then, they were quiet. They waited, patiently. Once I finally sat down with the two books they picked out (may favorites, by the way), they sank in more and leaned in, ready for their stories and bed-time routine. They allowed for me to act as if mommy wasn’t a possessed someone-else moments ago. 

Grace. Forgiveness. Damn-it. They’ve already got it. Where’d mine go? 

I suppose I should realize that the little people I am supposed to be parenting are actually parenting me. And that this morning moment of guilt or last night’s moment of irrationally angry behavior is just that – a moment. Practicing grace for myself will lead to a grace-filled way of handling future situations – with kids, with work, in life.

Why do kids learn so fast? It’s because they are open to it. The take everything in wide-eyed and with acceptance. They are willing to try and try again. Are we?

So, this morning after, I am going to choose to finish this glorious cup of Joe and take a super hot shower and then kiss these babies tenderly and show them my biggest “I-am-so-freaking-proud-of-you” smile when I go to wake them. I will let them slobber their toothpaste all over their fresh, clean school clothes (because they’re practicing their multi-tasking, busy telling me about something in the midst of brushing). I will kiss their noses as I try to zip them into their winter coats while they are busy trying to play with the toys they haven’t seen since the night before, simultaneously. I will let them ask for every snack under the sun and happily hand them their vitamins and their apples and bananas as we rush out the door for the babysitter’s house. I will just say laughingly, “Eat your fruit and then Grandma Cindy will get you your favorite things.”   

I will do all of this because my two high-energy boys have a lot of love and forgiveness and grace inside of them. They got that from somewhere. It’s time to recognize those wonderful things in myself, too.