Mommy Fail

Some days are just amazing!  Some days I marvel at the fact that every one is getting along.  Both my kids are sleeping through the night, playing well with each other, eating all their veggies and even take simultaneous naps.  Some days are just magical and all I can think is:  "I'm doing it! I'm parenting!  My kids are happy and adjusted and I am just loving life!" Some times this happens for days at a time.  Some times.  This time?  Not so much.

It has been a trying couple of weeks to say the least.  My son, who has the lungs of Siryn, has reached new highs with his persistent screaming.  Throw in the fact that his separation anxiety has hit a fever pitch and couple that with the knowledge that my 3 year old has unwillingly given up her pacifiers, it's safe to say that it has been very loud and emotional in my house.  When it gets like this I start to have a hard time focusing, listening, remembering things.  I think it's because my mind starts to escape inward (I'm assuming it's my bodies natural defense to protect from going insane from the constant screaming.) and it tends to ignore things that once seemed important.  Like play dates or doctors appointments.  I didn't realize how hard it was really hitting me until I had my very first real "mommy fail".

Don't get me wrong, I've had some pretty awesome "mommy fails" before this one.  But this one made me feel like a terrible parent...more so then usual.

The other day my daughter had been whining for what seemed like days and refusing to eat or sleep.  So she had just been a dream.  And when I say dream, I mean the scary kind.  And this one particular morning she asked for milk with her breakfast. (Which she wasn't going to eat anyway)  So I thought, 'well, at least she'll get some milk in her.'  I poured her a glass.  She immediately starts whining "no no, I don't want it."  Ugh!  She said the same thing after she specifically asked for waffles with syrup and before I even laid the plate in front of her.

Anyway, she starts whining and throwing a fit.  So I told her she couldn't have a piece of chocolate until she drank her milk.  The least she could do was drink her milk.  So she stiffens up, picks up her glass and downs most of it.  Then promptly says "yuck!"  Everything is yuck to a 3 year old.

me- "What's yuck, honey?"
princess- "Milk"
me- "Milk isn't yucky! It's good for your bones and helps you play."
princess- "No, yucky."
me- "Stop being silly.  It's not yucky."
princess- "No mommy, milk yucky."
me-"O.k.  Now you're just trying to have an argument with me."

Do you see where we're going with this?  At this point my husband goes over to see if he can defuse the situation because he can see the "hulk smash" creeping up into my face.  Next thing you know he's in an outrage.  "Did you smell this milk?"

You guessed it.  I had given the poor thing sour milk... I don't think the guilt could be any worse.  And why do these things always happen when my husband is home?  I feel like he already thinks my parenting style is not to his liking and then some thing like this happens which just proves him right.  And I hate when he's right...and he's always friggin right!

I ended up giving her grip water and all the chocolate she could handle since I was trying to pacify my very guilty conscious.  One thing I really wanted to be was a mom with no regrets and I feel like the longer I have children the harder it is to be that way.  I feel like every decision I make would be much better informed if I could time travel.  The only time I ever truly feel like I know what I'm doing is when the moment is over and I'm looking back.

Some times I just feel like I'm failing.  Failing my kids, failing myself.  I always thought I would be better.  I shared this terrible incident with my pediatrician and she gave me some very encouraging words:

"Please!  You are not a bad mom.   You are definitely not the first parent to tell me this story.  This may be the first time you feed your kid spoiled milk but it probably won't be the last.  So don't stress over silly mistakes that don't make a lick of difference to your kids.  They won't even remember!  She's not going to hate you or have some deep seeded aversion to dairy products.  She probably didn't even get a tummy ache.  So forget it!"

This made me realize two things.  1)  She was right!  All I can do is love my kids to the best of my ability and pray that God will do the rest.  And Lord knows I love them and I'm pretty sure he's sick of my begging him to take care of them.  Isn't everything else just water under the bridge or spilt milk? (pun totally intended) My kids are well adjusted, well taken care of, and completely confident in the knowledge of my love for them.  And isn't that all that matters?

and 2) Check the expiration date...


Antenella