Will You Please Forgive Me?

Have you ever had one of those days where, as a mother, you feel like you can't do anything right? Well, today is one of those days. I was feeling overwhelmed the minute I got out of bed. We have all had the flu for the past couple weeks, so there are mountains of laundry, sticky tile where my kids spilled juice and Cole decided to throw a cup of applesauce, and I'm exhausted. Not just tired, I'm extremely exhausted. I still don't feel back to 100% since I got the flu 10 days ago.
The minute I got out of bed, I felt like everyone was barking at me. This always sets my day up for failure-when I don't get up with right mindset and I haven't asked God to be in control of my day. Sometimes I feel like I have to put myself in the mood for my day-in preparation for the battle. And IT IS A BATTLE! Mothers are warriors and I'm not always ready to go in and win. The funny thing is...my children sense my fear. The days I'm struggling, it's like they are sharks smelling blood in the water and they gang up and go in for the kill. Those are the days they seem to disobey more, listen less, and make me lose my mind.

It starts as I stumble to the coffee pot, desperate for some caffeine therapy. I start to make the boys breakfast for which Jackson strongly voices his disgust, "cereal again, Mom! We had cereal two days in a row-I want pancakes." I immediately snap at him and let him know he just better be thankful he gets to eat. I'm starting laundry as Cole dumps his cereal milk everywhere and shortly after my husband comes in to tell me he forgot he has to deliver some tools today around the same time of my hair appointment, so could i "reschedule for tomorrow?" Are you kidding me? My hair has 1/2 and inch of gray roots showing and I haven't washed it in three days due to the fact that after I wash it I would have to fix it, and I just don't have time for that right now. The phone is ringing off the wall, and when I answer it for the third time in eight minutes, the telemarketer decides to give me lip. It's obvious he hates his job and I now must pay for asking him to please remove our number from his list. Again, I let him know, he messed with the wrong woman in a way that still has me feeling terrible an hour later. I dwelled on that the rest of the day.

Jackson keeps begging to watch TV and looking back, I should've just given in and let him. Cole is into everything and if I don't get him down for his morning nap, I'm going lose it. I finally put him down and he never falls asleep in the whole hour and a half. In that hour and a half, I make a phone call and switch the laundry over, but don't get it folded. I set out hamburger to thaw for the lasagna and later realize when I went to the grocery store, I forgot lasagna noodles. I ask Jackson for the 17Th time to pick up the trains in the kitchen.

Here's the thing-I feel like the kitchen is my domain, my work space, my "desk." How come everyone's things end up in my "office?" Jon walks in and throws his keys and wallet on the counter, Jackson likes to push his trains on the counter, and Cole's refrigerator alphabet letters end up on the floor instead of the refrigerator. Is it too much to ask? There are a million other places in this house for everyone to put their stuff. My kitchen is small as it is. You can't open the dishwasher and the oven door at the same time. I feel like I can't breathe in there and as I turn around to get the boys lunch, I step with a barefoot onto a metal train.

Well, that was it-I came unglued. I scream at Jackson for him to pick up his "damn trains!" Yes-I really used that word. I'm so ashamed as I see the terror on his face. Why did I do that? Why did I react in a way that scared a four-year old? Was it really that big of a deal to tell him again, calmly, to pick them up? I walk out of the room feeling so sorry for what I've done. I head to my room and pray "Father God...change me. Make me like you. Help me to see life's little annoyances as just that. I don't want to scare my children into obeying me. I don't want them to see the wrong way to react in anger."

It's a humbling experience to have to ask your child to forgive you. It really is...and I feel like I have to do it often. I tell him I'm sorry that I yelled at him. Thankfully, Jackson is always so forgiving. He's amazing. He says "Mom, what you did was wrong, but did you know that sometimes mommies sin too?" Yes, Jackson, I do know that. More than you will ever know...I know that. He tells me he forgives me and that "next time, I will pick up my damn trains the first time!" Geez! I'm not finished-now, I have to go have another conversation and tell him how mommy also sinned by saying a naughty word! Motherhood is so humbling. Help me Lord!