8:00AM: toughest point in my day. Trying to get the kids organized and off to school as my cell phone rings requires masterful multitasking. I answer the cell phone and it's call that I need to take. My dear children are standing in the kitchen, backpacks settled and ready to go. And then it happens...Zach decides he's thirsty and pulls out the milk. He spills it down his shirt as I try to wrap up my conversation. And then Brielle MUST have milk, too.
I get off the phone, letting the kids know that it's not time to be drinking milk but time to go. Okay - not so bad. Then, I get all of our stuff - usually about 6 bags total that I'm toting, pushing, carrying - into the car along with the kids. Whew...ready to roll. BUT, Zach has milk all over his mouth (yes, it bugs me) and as he starts to laugh, the gross milk and saliva mixture dribbles down his shirt. That's it...I'm done. Stick a fork in me and let me go. I slam the door, run into the house to get a paper towel, run back out to the car and let him have it. I'm screaming at him about taking care of himself and his appearance and wiping his face and shirt down. Needless to say, this was not one of my finer moments of motherhood.
Zach is quiet on the way to school - and Zach is never quiet. Only when he's upset. And then the guilt begins to settle in and I feel horrible. So I apologized profusely, give him hugs, walk him into school. I get back into the car and want to curl up on my bed as thoughts of Mommy Dearest run through my head. "No more wire hangers! And no more milk all over your face!"
Ridiculous, I know. This comes from the controlling part of my personality which unfortunately rares its ugly head at times when I'm stressed...and other times, according to my husband. On my way to work, I tried to call my husband and finally got him on the phone. The interesting thing is that I told him the story and wanted him to absolve me of my bad behavior. He wouldn't which is probably a good thing because I don't deserve to be absolved. But I do deserve forgiveness, I think. I'm human, as all of us Moms are.
When I came home tonight, Zach was there waiting for me and told me all about his day. So I can live through yet another "less than perfect" Mom moment and hope that tomorrow is better. I can only hope.