I’ve been sitting around lately, contemplating my parenting skills or, perhaps more likely, my lack of parenting skills.
See, I have been known to yell. Or even hiss something mean to one of my kids if they’ve pushed my last button and I’ve pulled out every last drop of patience and the reservoir has run dry.
I don’t want to be the mom who is mean to her kids.
That’s not to say I want to give in to them on every little thing. No. I want to be the mom who disciplines with love and kindness. The mom who says no with a smile to the request for candy before dinner.
I know I’m only human and I get tired and frustrated and irritable but sometimes I feel like I’m more tired, frustrated and irritable than your average mom. And I hate that about myself.
While at a gathering for my grandmother’s birthday this weekend, a cousin and his wife were there with their two kids. My cousin’s wife is a strict mom but I think she’s a kind one too. Her kids know they’re loved even though they have many rules and she is firm with them.
I am not this woman, I don’t have her temperament or her wardrobe but I want to be more like her as a mother.
I want even the frustrated moments to be drenched in kindness. I never, ever want my kids to think I don’t want them near me or that they’re a nuisance (even when they ARE being a nuisance because let’s face it, kids can do that sometimes.)
It’s not too late for me as a mother. I refuse to believe that I can’t change. But I do know it’s going to take work and a lot of thought and lots and lots of patience on my part, for myself and for my kids.
They deserve for me to try, at the very least. They deserve better than what I’ve given them so far.