I did plan on writing today but it wasn’t going to be this post. This one has come completely out of the blue. Totally unplanned. They say it’s best to write when you feel the emotion so here I am. Because not only am I emotional, I’m broken. It’s not yet 2pm on a Saturday afternoon and my child has broken me. Well and truly broken me.
I don’t particularly enjoy writing these types of blogs because it’s never the kind of thing that any parent wants to admit to. No one really wants to admit that their child has pushed them beyond limits they didn’t even know they’d got. No one wants to admit that they were stood in the middle of a shopping centre feeling like they’re about to have a breakdown because their child has been whining and moaning and stamping and kicking for the last half an hour all because you wouldn’t buy them a £1.99 Lego Blind Bag from Argos. No one wants to be ‘that parent’. You know, the one that’s losing her shit in the middle of Boots because her child doesn’t understand why bad behaviour isn’t rewarded with a lollipop? No one wants to be ‘that parent’ that everyone is staring at because their child is apparently out of control and they can’t do anything to rectify the situation. No one wants to be ‘that parent’ that feels like a total bloody failure.
I know I’m not. But on days like this you can’t help but wonder to yourself ‘where did I go wrong?!’ It’s on days like this that there never seems to be any other child being a living nightmare. It’s only yours that you can hear screaming and it’s only you that everyone is staring at. Looks of disgust. Looks of pity and the occasional looks of sympathy.
I know I haven’t gone wrong anywhere. He is three. He is growing and learning everyday and everyday brings more frustrations for him. He is in the process of giving up daytime naps so by the weekend he is shattered. So he gets grumpy. He gets arsey. He gets shitty and he takes it out on me. Just like we do when we get tired. I can’t blame him for that.
So as I sit here in the car now calm has been restored and I’m looking at his long eyelashes and listening to his gentle sighs as he sleeps, I wonder how I can handle it better next time?
My answer? I probably won’t. There will be more times like this. Probably many more. I get that, I really do. And I probably won’t handle it any better next time. Who does really? Being a parent can be really bloody hard and today I’ve felt the worst I have in a very long time. But I’m ok. He broke me, yes. But I’ve picked myself up, dusted myself off and put myself back together again. And the reason? Because I’m his Mum and he needs me.
He needs me to help him get through his frustrations. He needs me to take it out on and he needs me to understand him. He needs me to be there for the cuddle when he realises he’s done wrong. He needs me to tell him it’s all okay and he needs me to love him unconditionally. And I do. Oh how I do. More than anything in the world. More than I ever thought possible. More than life itself. He can break me over and over again, but my love for him will never, ever change.