Rose and the rice

A text I sent to my sister Em at 5pm today:

I just failed at motherhood. I accidentally dumped rice all over the floor and totally freaked out when Rose wouldn't stop walking in it and swimming in it. I tried putting her in time out but she kept coming out while I was trying to sweep up the rice and Amber was whining the whole time. I hate how hard everything is when I'm tired!

Everything was going fine today until the rice debacle. I was relatively cheerful in spite of my sluggish exhaustion. Of course I had to be tested a little extra and of course I failed the test. Why?? I know it's going to be hard in the afternoon and evening when I'm exhausted, but it's still hard even when I'm expecting it. Grrr. 

I don't like how my whole day is tainted by one single outburst. While I was trying to deal with the rice-Rose situation, I completely did not care about how I would feel afterwards. I totally felt like a hot blooded redhead with a temper flare-up, Anne Shirley style! I didn't break a slate over Rose's head or shout or anything (I'm not much of a shouter). But I was flaming hot on the inside! I asked Rose in an angry voice to leave the kitchen a few times and when she refused with a sneaky grin, I literally dragged her to the bathroom for time out. She kept running out of the bathroom with a grin on her face. It's like she found the how-to manual on the most effective way to suck Shaina dry of all patience and enrage me. I've known this about Rose since her babyhood, when she couldn't even crawl. She'd sit next to 2-year-old Jay with that sneaky grin on her face and do the exact thing that caused him to melt down--taking his toy, knocking down his blocks, etc. Why did I let her get to me today? She found my meltdown button and pushed it--no, punched it--repeatedly. I've been kicking myself for reacting ever since I finally cooled off.

Jeff had just gotten out of the shower right at the climax of the rice incident, when I was dashing down the hall and casting myself onto the bed in despair. He stepped in and handled the unruly Rose in his firm, patient way which always inspires two emotions in me: 1. THANK GOODNESS for husbands! and 2. Why am I failing so badly at patience when he can just handle this situation, all cool and collected? It's not even that big of a problem, so why can't I handle it? Why is it so easy for him when it's so impossible for me? I feel pathetic. It's not like I want my husband to have meltdowns or outbursts too, it just seems like I'm the only one who makes mistakes! Sometimes I feel like I'm the only flawed one in our relationship. He's not trying to make me feel bad (it's just my guilt); he's not even mad at me for melting down! Seriously his patience is all at once maddening and impressive! 

Jeff always nobly reminds me that for a sleep deprived person, I'm doing very well. Exhausted mommy-meltdowns are just part of the deal. BUT STILL. I hate them. I hate how I feel during and after them. Every challenge we face is an opportunity to CHOOSE to love and be patient or thrash and whine. I chose the latter this afternoon and it feels like poison in my chest. I'm still recovering from it. 

At dinner I said, "family, I'm sorry I freaked out today." Jeff said "I still love you," and Jay followed suit saying "it's ok, Mommy, I love you." A few minutes later, Rose said "I love you too, Mommy!" I need to forgive myself as fast as my sweet family does. 

We get The Week news magazine, and one of my favorite sections is called “It Wasn’t All Bad.” It’s usually at the bottom of a page detailing the world’s latest problems, and I find that small box outlining good deeds so refreshing. Here’s my day’s version of that section, since I prefer to end on a positive note:

It wasn’t all bad:
In the car today, Rose was dancing in her seat to some David Archuletta music. She said “Mommy, my braided pony tails are dancing! My hair is dancing with me!”

Amber suddenly learned how to pick toys up and bite them. That happened over night! When it was time to pick Jay up from school, Amber was in the middle of her newly established afternoon nap. I dreaded waking her up, but miraculously, she fell back asleep after each move: from crib to car seat and back to crib again. YES!

During family scripture time tonight, Jay rubbed his hand on my arm and leaned his soft freckled face against me.