Intention to be a PC parent (patient and consistent) is what I wake up with every morning. But of late, this evades me as quickly as a snooze cycle on the alarm clock.
I have 3 kids to get ready in the morning. The nanny only arrives at 8 and they should already be dressed and be eating breakfast. I also need to be ready to go to work at 8. This transition back into work is not going well.
When you are on maternity leave, nothing really prepares you to the next phat5tse. Both Miss Z and Mr A are in school full time now. But neither of them are great at getting ready quickly these days. They know the 3 morning rules, they know that they get rewards for doing them on time, but sleep just seems to be more important than all of that.
And if we were the typical noughties family, where both parents club in together, maybe it would be easier. But that doesn’t happen in my household. I have to go at it alone.
By the time the clock hits 7,50am and none of them are dressed, my patience vanishes in a quick second. I start shouting at them and at least one of them will cry. Sometimes I will smack their bum. And not even 5 minutes later I feel the worst Mom in the world.
How can I, the Mom that abhors violence of any kind, be doing this? Where is all this frustration coming from, and why can’t I control myself?
It’s very easy for us parents to be hard on ourselves. I, for one, struggle to let myself off the hook. I feel very guilty that I can’t be a better person. But then, I slowly calm down, I look back and I remember that no-one is perfect. And that all of us loose it every once in a while.
I’m going through a difficult phase with my better half. And that is where all the frustration is coming from. I shouldn’t let it out on my innocent children, but it’s really hard not to.
I apologised to Miss Z and Mr A this morning for shouting at them. And I restated my intentions to myself. Maybe that’s not enough. Maybe I should do more. But it will have to do for now, because the reality hits, and I have to put on a brave face and do my 8 hours of work, whilst crying inside about my crumbling life.