It’s been one of those days.  One of those Bad Mother Days.  One of those days when I question why the hell I ever had kids.  One of those days that I fear Child Protective Services would swoop in and remove my kids from me with great haste if they saw what kind of a mother I was today, or the thoughts going through my head.  One of those days when I question whether my kids will ever actually grow into fully functioning adults.  When I question my ability to raise them into said adults. 

Dinner was bombed by the temper tantrum that wouldn’t quit.  My husband is away tonight and for some inexplainable reason I chose to try and feed Avery food that she DOESN’T LIKE.  “I don’t like that Mommy. Yucky. It’s yucky and I don’t like it.  No Mommy. I don’t like it and I don’t want to eat it.” And. So. On.

For some reason I just didn’t want to lose this battle tonight.  Instead I chose to muster of the energy to fight for two straight hours.  It ended with dinner being spilled on the floor (not completely intentionally) and a spanking and crying and weeping and gnashing of teeth and a partridge in a pear tree.  Well not so much that last part.  But Oh My WORD was there not enough drama in my life? Clearly not. 

I didn’t even deal with her until the baby was put to bed. And then we talked about exactly why she was being punished.  I was angry and frustrated.  Why can’t the child just eat what is put in front of her?  WHYYYY???  When I told her I was very, very sad that she wouldn’t eat her dinner she throws her arms around me, saying “It’s ok Mommy!” 

I let this go on and on and I could have stopped it at any time. I could have prevented what I KNEW would turn into a nightmare by picking something more palatable for her on a night that I have no backup.  But no, I didn’t.  And I was cold and mean.  And I spanked her.  On her rear where she has bad rash that I had totally forgotten about.  That sound you hear?  That’s the sound of karma winding up to kick my ass.  Yes, she is three and she is going to have these tantrums. But today? I could have done better.  So her willingness to comfort me was heartbreaking in the most bittersweet way.

I bathed her and got her ready for bed. And then we just cuddled on the couch until she fell asleep in my arms.  Which was beautiful and peaceful. I so rarely get to hold her when she’s sleeping anymore.  And now I will have myself a good little cry and hope to do better tomorrow.  It’s so hard to know when to fight and when to let it go and which battles are going to turn your child into a drug-addict-deadbeat-loser and which are going to mean absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things. And it’s also hard to know when you’re just taking out your stress on the child because you’re having a bad week and you aren’t grown up enough to know better. 

Maybe tomorrow I’ll know better.  Please don’t report me!