I knew the day would come...

This has been a week so far... It's been one of those kind of weeks that truly test you as a mother (and even as a rational human being). Honestly, I'm frustrated, frazzled, tired, and a little guilt-ridden all rolled into one bleary-eyed, coffee-addicted, teeth-clenching thirty-something who doesn't feel so great at the whole parenting thing this week. 

I knew the time would come that I would tire of the whole "make everyday a great day" mantra (not that I still don't try, but man it's exhausting), or when my rose colored glasses would get cracked (beneath the hands of a very trying toddler). I knew the day would come that I would just sit on the couch clutching my coffee for dear life as I succumbed to the fact that I was going to have to pick up the hundred-billion trillion Lego pieces and train track parts that were now littered across my entire downstairs (and do so for the millionth time that day). I knew the day would come that I would want to give Elmo a not-so-friendly pat on the back, or insist that Thomas just listen to Sir Topham Hat for once in his ever-tooting life!! Yes, I knew the day would come, but I hoped it wouldn't. 

I wanted to be the mom who always woke up with a smile, perfected sing-a-longs while making a scrumptious but healthy breakfast, the mom who made running errands with kids look like fun, or the mom who could just look at her toddler in the middle of a nice restaurant and know that that cute little face wouldn't dream of screaming like a banshee or insisting on going outside after just sitting down. I definitely wanted to be the mom who NEVER forgot an appointment and always turned in all important paperwork on time (and not ever at the last possible minute). I wanted to be the mom who truly enjoyed every single minute with my children, watching them grow, learn and play. I would never do anything that would cause me to feel guilty or to second and triple guess myself. Each day would be different and new and wonderful... Or so I thought.

This week proved to me three primary things:

1. Eventually, the optimism fades and you become a realist. You realize not everyday will go as planned (or not planned) and you won't always be able to see the silver lining in the chewed up, spit out food adorning the kitchen table, floors and the dogs ears. That's ok. Sometimes situations just suck (especially the ones you have to clean up). Own it. Admit it. Laugh if you can (or count to ten) and move on.

2. A "look" from you at your defiant, screaming, standing-up in his chair toddler in the middle of a crowded restaurant will NOT do anything, but possibly make him laugh (at you). Be ok with admitting that you alone are not enough to tame your wild child. You're not a failure either. It just means that you've now reached the point of your parenting journey when a discipline routine comes into play. To each his or her own, but for us the "1-2-3" warming followed by a timeout is starting to show our little tyrant who's boss (hint: rhymes with llama). We are both learning that consistency is key, and empty threats do nothing but take up needless time and energy. Caden may be headstrong, but my question to my little tyke is always "hey, buddy... Where do you think you got that from?" (Silence. Big brown eyes looking up at me.) "Yep. You got it. So, I'd suggest NOT doing that again."

3. There WILL be days when you will feel guilty because you think of all the things you did or didn't do, didn't do enough of or did too much of... You will second and triple guess your parenting decisions and reactions. You will question your questions. Why did you let your kid eat a cookie (or two) before dinner? How much of that stupid tv show did your child actually happen to see? Could you have prevented that spill on the sidewalk? Did you really just feed your baby store bought baby food?!? Why is your toddler so defiant... is it something you did? The guilt will always be there. Always. Every day. Some days will be better and some much worse, but I'm learning the guilt-ridden self-doubt is a motherly gift we all share. So, with that gift, I'm going to try my best to learn from it and with it, to adjust things accordingly,and move on as best I can on a better (or at least more experienced) foot. I'm going to try hard to NOT beat myself up or start planning my children's future therapy sessions (because I let one of them cry while trying to deal with another's tantrums). With self-exploration comes growth, right? As moms, we do a lot of both. 

This week has NOT been my favorite, but it has been a great one for learning, and for that I am grateful. That being said, let me be frank by admitting that if the bin of Legos happens to disappear into oblivion... I have absolutely no idea who took them and where they went. Not a clue...

This was probably pre-Lego tantrum freak out when he was taking a moment to be "sweet"...