Sunday, 7 May 2017

She took a deep breath, and let it go

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. 



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