Let
me set the scene... Husband is away for the weekend, I haven't slept well in
the last few nights due to a cold keeping me awake and I also went to bed
late last night due to a cheese/wine/talk fest with my girlfriends. So to say I was looking for an
easy day today was an understatement. I
was secretly hoping for it to be raining so we could just bunker down at home,
but when the sun streamed through the kitchen windows I thought I would do the
right thing rug the kids up in anticipation of the 13 degree day and drive the
kids to the "good" park. At this point I should add that yesterday I
bought the kids new shoes and clothes. Miss M has been wearing the sparkly
boots since we bought them and Master Q has been doing the same with his
runners and monster tracksuit pants. The control freak in me would normally
tell them to change into old shoes and clothes so the new ones didn't get
ruined but I told myself to let go a bit, what's
the worst that could happen?!
We
arrived at the park and the kids ran down the hill squealing with excitement.
Miss M then ran with abandon straight into a WET.MUD.PIT! Master Q running too
quickly to see what had happened followed right behind her and went A over T onto his backside. My regularly used profanity of the S.H.I.T variety rang out
and Master Q started bawling. "I'm
sorry Mum" he cried repeatedly between his tears. Upon seeing Master
Q covered in mud Miss M then looked down at her own boots and
burst into tears, “My new shoes!!!”, she wailed.
 |
| Well, could be worse, could have been something other than mud! |
I could
feel despair set in; I wanted to scream: This
is how I'm rewarded for trying to be a good mum? Now we have to go back home, I
have to clean mud off everything, the kids are beside themselves and their new
shoes are ruined!!
I have
reacted like this on many an occasion since being a Mum, and I know I’m not
alone. You are tired and in need of a break and you just feel like you Can’t. Take.
Anymore. It’s always something that you know in isolation and when told later
to husband seems like no big deal. But at the time it just feels like it can’t
get any worse.
This time
however I told myself, NO. I wasn’t going to fly off the handle, I took a deep
breath and instead said quietly, "It's ok honey, it was
an accident, it will wash out". I pulled them both up to the car, stripped
the still bawling Master Q to his undies and cranked up the heater. We arrived
home and I took Master Q to the bathroom and gave him new clothes. I then
glanced at the floor of the toilet and noticed an Olympic sized pool of wee on
the floor next to the toilet. I chastised the culprit and proceeded to clean
the floor of what now smelt like a public urinal. My newfound calm was starting
to waiver and I could feel my blood pressure start to rise. As I took the mud covered clothes and shoes
to the laundry and started scrubbing, I said to myself, "Why do they always do this when you are tired and over it?, Why
do you get punished when you try to do something nice for them? The day is
ruined now.”
But as I
cleaned the mud methodically from Master Q's shoes I realised I had a decision
to make, I could let this continue to spiral out of control and let it ruin the
day for all of us or I could take a deep breath, remind myself it was just two unfortunate accidents and that I wasn't being punished, that this is life with kids.
This was another moment in time we had spent together, they were all
precious, the good times and the not so good times. So instead of punishing us
all, I got everyone changed, rugged up, back
in the car and drove back to the “good’ park, via Maccas this time, cause that
is what the moment called for. The kids couldn't believe I let them have
"Old Macdonald’s” and they played happily at the park for the next hour...carefully avoiding the mud puddles.