I’d love to read a blog post that tells you how it is sometimes really is when it comes to parenting. At the moment I feel like I’m permanently hashtagged with #parentfail and I’m so hoping, wishing, praying I’m not alone.
Some nights I go to bed with regrets of what’s happened in the day. There’s been yelling and screaming and lashing out and tears. Things have been flung across the room and emotions have run high.
Lying in bed I wonder if it’s this hard for parents in general or do I just have a rather strong-willed daughter. We still have loads of fun together but it feels as if a day doesn’t pass without an argument, fight or showdown.
My little Taurean is feisty. She knows her mind and once she’s decided on something it’s a little bit difficult convincing her otherwise. She’s precocious and headstrong and, dare I say it, naughty, and there are days, minutes, moments, where I feel like I’m losing the battle and the war.
Consequence is so much better than punishment but there’s been times I haven’t been able pull myself away, calm down and then deal with the situation. Instead I’ve screamed and screeched like a fish-wife, surprising myself at the shrillness of my voice.
No wonder Emma pushes back. Who wants to be screamed at all the time? She’s probably wondering, like I do, where the nice version of me has gone. At my worst I’ve seen a confused look on Emma’s face. This isn’t the mom I wanted to be. It’s not the mom I see in all the magazines and out at play dates.
There’s been moments when Emma has screamed that she’s not my daughter anymore and I’ve secretly, horribly, guiltily thought to myself ‘if only’. I’ve sat quietly and wondered where I’ve gone wrong. Wasn’t motherhood supposed to be picture perfect? Wasn’t I supposed to be perfect?
I’ve heard myself say “hurry up” a million times too many. And instead of stopping to chase a butterfly or look at the dragon-like cloud I’ve yelled “we’re late!” I’ve seen strangers look at me like I looked at them pre-children days and I’ve had friends and family offer advice on how to manage Emma.
I read blogs and Facebook updates from parents with what seem like perfect children. And I feel a twinge of jealousy. And sadness. How are they getting it so right? What are they doing that I’m not?
But occasionally, almost rarely, I’ll read a blog post by a mom who admits to having ‘lost it’. Who tells it like it is. And as a mom who has ‘those’ moments, I don’t find myself smirking or wringing my hands with glee. Rather, I nod in agreement, in understanding, in empathy. Feeling not altogether alone.