You know how you can go through days, maybe even weeks, where you think you're a great Mom? Where you're patting yourself on the back, telling yourself how hard you work for your kids, how great you are at comforting them, at being their cheerleader? Sure, you tell yourself, I'm not perfect, but I'm still pretty darn good. You almost get a bit prideful as you tell yourself how great of a job you're doing. Until God starts to see this pride and decides it's time to remind you that you still have a lot of room to grow.
This was me yesterday. I'd been feeling pretty proud of myself as Alex's mom. I'd been working with his doctors and insurance to get him on the right medication (which seemed to take 10,000 phone calls), helped him deal with the different side effects, held him when he cried, when he was moody, or just didn't understand why he felt crazy inside. I did my best to help him get to sleep when his body was fighting rest for all it was worth. I worked with his preschool to get him out of his contract there so he could go to summer camp and just have some fun. I had made fun plans to celebrate his preschool graduation and make sure he had a bunch of familiar faces there to cheer him on.
See, I was rocking it as a mom, wasn't I? Don't you want to pat me on the back? As you can tell, I thought I deserved it. That is until I forgot that my son is only five. He's not a mini adult, even though at times he talks like one. He needs my patience even when I have none to give. He needs me to be understanding even when I don't feel like it. He needs me to bite my tongue when I just want to yell at him to calm down and go to sleep. He needs me to truly understand his personality, and know that yelling at him doesn't help anyway. It only hurts his feelings and makes him question my love. He needs me to put aside whatever I'm dealing with and be there for HIM.
He doesn't understand that Mommy had a rough day or is stressed or worried or frazzled or just plum exhausted. And at five years old, he shouldn't have to understand all that. It's not his job. His job is to enjoy his childhood, not to take care of Mommy or worry that she's going to take her frustration out on him.
And yesterday I got in the way of his job. I made it about me. I was in such a rush to get his ADHD "figured out" and "resolved" that I failed him. I was so focused on solving the "problem" that I lost track of him as a person. I lost track of the little guy who depends on me for most everything. And I wasn't there for him. And even though I did apologize and he said it was okay, I could see in his eyes that it wasn't. I could see how much I'd hurt him by not being more understanding, more patient, more loving.
And even though I wished I could just take back the whole evening, I knew that wasn't an option. So, I did the next best thing. I lay down next to him on the floor (which is where he decided he wanted to sleep after I snapped at him) and just held him until he fell asleep. And while we were lying there, every couple of minutes he would say "mommy, you yelled at me". And I would say "yes, baby, I did and I'm so sorry." We repeated that same script five or six times until he finally drifted off. But still I stayed with him for the next hour , just in case somehow me holding him was getting through to his subconscious. Like if I held him tightly enough, my love would seep through from my body into his. And sometimes as a Mom who screwed up, that's the best you can do.
