Sometimes I go to bed feeling comfortable that I was a good mom during the day. Knowing that both boys had a good day and had gone to bed feeling happy and loved fills me with peace and contentment. On those nights I drift off to sleep easier and tend to rest deeper and for a longer period of time.
Last night was not one of those nights. I slept horribly, but I'm not surprised because I went to bed feeling frustrated and ashamed of my mothering. Yesterday, I was not a good mom.
I became frustrated with both boys, with Robby absorbing the brunt of my aggravation. He became confused with his math assignment and I wasn't able to help him. When he couldn't answer basic questions about what he learned from his tutor the previous day, I felt my patience snap.
After a thirty minute lecture on responsibility, due diligence and following through on tasks, I finally threw down the papers on the table and left the room. I recognized that I had worked myself into a frenzy that was not constructive or helpful. After a walk in the frigid air to get the mail, I was able to calm down and quickly saw the error of my outburst. I still contend that my frustration with his lack of attention to detail was correct, but my demonstration was certainly not.
Although Robby and I eventually worked through his math issues, he spent the rest of the night walking on eggshells around me. I apologized for my outburst without absolving him of his own contributions. Hopefully today will be better, because yesterday is not one I am eager to repeat.
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