Monday, December 20, 2010
Honestly, I don't know that I deserve to be a mother. There are times, like today, that I cannot believe the unreasonable and mean things that come out of my mouth! I know there is something that takes over and then I spend the rest of the day or week or month replaying the scenario in my head only to come to the conclusion that my kids might be better off without me. Especially my daughter. She's so unbelievably special and kind-hearted and sweet and helpful and patient and tender and, yet, I seem to reserve my anger for her because I look at her as everything I should be and I'm not! Yeah, that's certainly sick - I know! I see her look at me with the greatest love even though I'm yelling at her for not hanging her clothes on a hanger. I know that there is nothing wrong with correcting her when she needs it but for not hanging up her clothes? All she'd have to do is take a gander at her mother's room and see I don't even like to do it! Yet, I continue like some sort of delusional idiot until I feel some sort of sick satisfaction over the whole thing. But, what I think is sick satisfaction is not satisfaction at all...it is a humongous sense of remorse and shame.
I'm all these kids have in the way of a parent and I get caught up in the whole concept of what it means for me. It is a huge amount of pressure, yes, but it could also be a huge opportunity to be a rock star! Not in the "I want my kids to be my friends" kind of a way but more like as an example of Christian living. I'm all but sure that the example I gave my daughter this morning looked nothing like a shining example of anything but cruelty! Why? Because she didn't hang up her clothes and her toys were not put away nicely? And that means what? It means more work for me? Oh brother! That second cup of milk that Keagan wants at lunch time irritates me why? Because it means I'd have to stuff away my own selfish want to sit and eat my own lunch? Holy cow, get over it!
This all happens smack dab in the middle of Christmas time. A time of waiting until we celebrate the glorious gift of Jesus' birth. I've been reading a lot about the journey of the Holy Family and what Joseph must have endured. I wonder if he went nuts over clothes not being hung up in the closets? He was probably a little more concerned about finding shelter for the Savior and the Blessed Mother but let's not split hairs, right? UGH!