In other words, they act their ages.
But, on occasion, and on some days more than others, I don't.
I forget that they are *just* six, four, and almost two. I lose patience. I rush them. I get frustrated when, in trying to master a skill, they put the left shoe on the right foot four times in a row (when we're really trying to get out of the house for school, like, Right Now). I repeat the same direction 17 times instead of making sure I have their attention before I say it the first time. I speak in an incredibly and unnecessarily high volume. And sometimes, I, too, break into spontaneous fits of crying.
And then, the storm passes and I look back on my Mommy Meltdown and I vow to do better. To speak to my children with love and kindness in my voice. To have more patience.
But sometimes, before I can even feel that post-meltdown regret.....something happens that is way worse than any self-inflicted remorse....something like this...
It says, "To Max. News Report. From Evan. The Book of Mom"
On the inside: me, with fire coming out of my head. Max asked if those squiggles were "a hairy face." Thankfully, no. Unfortunately, Evan said, "No, that's Mom using her mad voice."
Luckily, Evan gave this to Max in front of me, and he showed it to me. Luckily, I had the presence of mind to use it as an opportunity to apologize for my meltdown; to tell them why I had felt frustrated but to explain that my behavior was unacceptable. Luckily, by the end of our conversation, we were all laughing and hugging.
Unluckily.....I'll never forget that picture.
Do better. Have more patience. Do better. Have more patience. Do better. Have more patience..............