Part I
Swimming lessons went great yesterday and Angela was just a peach.
You know why?
I didn’t bring her! (Never underestimate the blessing of a good babysitter.)
The not-so-funny thing is the following admission: my Got a Toddler? post on Monday was written in a state of High Anxiety. Yes, on the surface my words were playful & light-hearted, but oh…the anger and the stress and the tears behind it all!
Matilda caught it and called me the next morning to ask: How are you holding up? (Thank you, Matilda.)
Nutmeg and Jamie caught it and in their comments said they’d pray for me. (And what a difference those prayers made to the rest of my day.)
Ouiz caught it and reminded me—cheerfully, and much to my edification—that we mothers must make use of the many little (and big) mortifications that come our way, and that the biggest evil is not making use of them when they do.
Isn’t the blogosphere a wonderful place?
And isn’t it a temptation for us moms to not want the obstacles to come our way? And (for some of us), to nearly lose it when they do?
I lost it on Monday.
On Tuesday, it was another mother’s turn.
She came bustling into the waiting area of the swim school and told her boys to quickly finish up their lunch. “And don’t spill your chocolate milk!” she commanded. The unpleasantness of it all began to escalate, because her 3-year-old did, in fact, spill his milk and in short, the mother lost it.
I mean, really lost it.
Emotionally. Verbally. Spiritually. Scandalously.
The other mother in the waiting room and I had no real choice but to listen to the barrage: “What did I say? What did I say? Clean it up, then! I said, clean it up! Get down there and wash the floor! Go on! Wash it!!”
I am ashamed–really ashamed–to say that I remained quiet. The other mother did, too, and pulled her little girl close and started kissing her.
I did pray for the angry mother, and have been since. But what I should have done was spoken calmly, cheerfully, and helpfully: “Let me help! Accidents happen! And oh my goodness, you should have seen my little girl on Monday…”
But I didn’t. I watched the train wreck. And I thought, “I want to be a better mom.”
Not than her, per se.
But rather, period. I want to be a better mom.
(to be continued)
I had a similar incident at the ER one time and I also did not say anything. I regret it to this day. I did pray for her as you are for this particular mother. This mother at the ER I knew had a husband deployed overseas and probably was absolutely overwhelmed by the aloneness of it all and I still didn’t step in.
Thank you once again for a timely post.
…looking forward to part II
Don’t feel too bad for saying nothing, she probably would have been more embarrassed if you would have said anything. I am sure you pray to the Holy Spirit every day and so be content that nothing was said, maybe the silence is what SHE needed. I am sure you will see her again and the moment will not be heated and a conversation will start. My 2 year old (almost 3) is a screamer, for everything. She makes it look as if I am kidnapping her when we leave a distination or if I want her to do anything she does not want to do. In the heat of the moment I think silence is better. When I am calmer, I can look back and laugh. (you have to!) And look at how I can also be a better mom. God Bless our 2 year olds!!
“I want to be a better mom.”
Me too, my friend. Me too.
With all of this house stress, I’ve been less than stellar on the “keeping my cool” front.
I think a phone call is in order.
🙂
ps. And yes, the blog-o-sphere is an unexpected source of grace and comfort!
Sometimes it can be very hard to remain calm and not yell. The hardest times for me is when I’m doing one thing such as trying to decide what to make for dinner and Honey is talking to me. The TV is on in the background and then Princess comes in whining about something. It make my head want to spin around!
Usually I’m lucky enough to catch myself before my voice gets too loud but it can be so difficult to be a better parent.
Echoing Megan, me too.
Yesterday I was very fortunate to go to the grocery store alone. There was a little boy about 3 1/2 in full raging splendor for a good 5 minutes. I happened to be heading in that direction and was very impressed to see a very calm mother. Not a happy mother, but a calm mother.
What do they say? That which doesn’t kill us makes us stronger?
Amen.
Margaret, just remember–sometimes praying IS enough.
When I lose my cool I sure could use someone to pray for me 🙂
You have given me a lot to think about today, Margaret.
Ok, just trying this blogger name. I did try it once but somehow it got erased, so I thought since I was not a blogger, just a blog reader, it would not work…we’ll see!
It looks great, Jamie! You still need to add your e-mail address if you want me to be able to reply to your comments, though.
Oh, how very sad! One can only imagine what her morning must’ve been that so little a thing was the very last straw.
Friday the children and I went down to the creek to play. It was 95 degrees that day, and blessedly cool in the water. A mother, grandmother and children joined us briefly and we were subject to a non-stop barrage of “don’t, stop, quit” getting “wet, dirty, muddy” and the final remonstration that none of them were fit to go to McDonald’s for lunch.
Like you, I simply didn’t know what to say. I kept praising my children for how “muddy, wet and dirty” they all were. It was a surreal experience.
I, too, have had bad days, though, to my shame, only my children and Heaven were aware of my shortcomings at that time.
What a blessing it is to see how awful I could appear in the eyes of someone else…how sad when I don’t realize the only eyes that matter are the precious little blue/green ones staring up at me!
Thank you, for sharing this…
You know how I react when I see things like this in public? I get scared. Completely frightened. And I’m an adult – think of how young ones must feel.
I too, want to be a better mother. Publicly, privately, always. Thanks, Margaret, for a great post.
Sometimes when I see or hear a mom lose it in public (or even just gripe at their children) it’s like God knows I need a a wake up call to ask myself, “Do I sound like that?” It helps me set a new goal to be more loving, serene and composed with my children.
I like your hunch to help though – if only more people would offer a hand in public instead of glares! Sometimes interference is not welcome, however, and your prayers never go to waste.
We all have our days – and no matter how long our fuse is, children will somehow always find the end of it!
Many are the days that, in the midst of some breakdown, I think of your good example. I can’t tell you how many times you have said that same sort of thing to me (sometimes in my head–no hallucinations, though!) You calmed and humbled and inspired me even if you don’t realize it. Looking forward to part II also.