there is no time in which this is so painfully apparent as when i lose my temper with my children. the weight of my responsibility hanging heavily from my shoulders like a mantle of guilt.
my goal is to bring up my children in a loving and happy home, reinforcing positive values and habits, molding them into responsible, compassionate and happy adults who go on to lead lives deemed successful by their own definitions.
i'm really not sure if i've gotten off to a good start.
enter the wild-haired, defiant and impish two-year-old with sleepy circles under her eyes. i know she's struggling to "be good" as she whirls around the house in various poses, making up songs and punctuating them with any range of noises. i know she gets her fiery attitude from observing me in action.
her infant brother is sleeping on my lap, the ONLY way he will sleep during the day if we're not driving in the car, after a long and arduous struggle to stay awake. she has already woken him twice.
i have been trying to negotiate with her for the last two hours, "if you go take a nap, we'll paint when you wake up... maybe we can even go outside and play!" she has repeatedly gone back to her room, only to return with even darker circles under her eyes and more defiance in her expression. this time she exclaims, "i need my diaper changed!" she has, so far, refused to be potty trained.
i sigh and carefully lift the baby and walk back to the play/nap room. i attempt to place him in the crib so i can change her but he wakes up as his body is transferred from the warmth of my arms to the cool mattress. he begins to wake while kai is dancing around the room noisily. i shush her as i caress his brow, trying to sooth him back to sleep. "screeeeech" a balloon filled with helium is dragged across the ceiling making more noise than i ever thought possible. "go in the other room!" i whisper. too late. the baby wakes and cries.
angered, now, i leave his side and throw the toys off her bed. they clatter against the floor. i grab her and lay her, not too gently, on the bed, raising my voice as i recount the past few hour's events and her refusal to obey while i change her diaper. "you happy, mommy?" she asks. "no, i'm angry because you won't listen!" i exclaim. "now you better lay down here with your blankie, stick that thumb in your mouth, shut those eyes and go to sleep or we will not paint or go outside at all today!"
she rolls over and, as i walk into the living room with the baby, i can hear her drift off to sleep at long last. the baby soon follows her, now back in my arms again.
i have a moment to reflect on how i could have handled that differently:
my boisterous little girl... not thinking of consequences or how her actions effect me, joyously dancing and singing around the house. not thinking that her brother needs to sleep or how those brief but rare moments of simultaneous napping are my only moments to collect the broken bits of my sanity and refresh myself before the next round begins.
knowing the baby would wake either way, why didn't i just lead her back to bed, read her a story, snuggle her and then tell her to go to sleep rather than expect an over-tired 2-year-old to follow my remote instructions to take a nap?
because i think of it as a reprieve to collect the broken bits of my sanity instead of nap time.
it occurs to me that these are moments to be drank in and enjoyed while they are hot. not to be looked upon after they've cooled and deciphered like leaves of tea in the bottom of my cup.
this IS the destination and every moment is ours to keep until it slips through our fingers.
will my children grow up as healthy, well adjusted adults? i don't know. i hope so. but they've certainly got a better chance of it if i stop focussing on that and divert my attention toward having happy children.
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