Guilt.

Mommy Guilt.
Lets talk about that for a minute, mmkay?

Like how I seriously despise going to the park.
But for some reason, admitting this fact gives me guilt.
As if admittance to my lack of excitement to get dirt
in my shoes, get stuck in the tube slide, and experience
sweat drip down my back makes me a bad mom.

And then there's the other kind of guilt
The guilt I feel when I'm having a bad day.
Like last Saturday.

Last Saturday Parker misbehaved in more ways
than I can count. And not even just last Saturday.
More like the last two weeks.

What is it Ms Glenda said the other day...
{Jeremy's step-dads mom}
"...terrible 2's, awful 3's, fearless 4's...."

Well, the words terrible-awful-and fearless,
HAHA.
They don't even begin to cover his behavior lately.
Especially last Saturday.

{food that was fixed for him was mutilated}
{his bed suddenly became a trampoline}
{furnature became a jungle gym}
{toys were thrown across the room}
{and peircing shrieks were heard by the entire apartment complex}


But I tried to stay positive,
because that's my new goal as a mommy.
To brush off the things that dont matter.
To remind myself that this too shall pass.
To focus on his milestones, rather than his meltdowns.

I decided I was going to devote more of my energy,
because maybe, just maybe he needs a little more
of Mommy-Parker time.

So I smiled, and brushed off his wild behavior,
and we played...

But then it was time for me to devote what little energy
I had left to myself, to get ready because we had plans
that night.

As I am sitting in my bedroom floor in front of the mirror
doing my hair/makeup, he then did something so terrible,
so horrible, so unforgivable {if he weren't my pride and joy},
that I could no longer hold a smile on my face.

He said a really, really, really UGLY word.

I dropped my hair straightener, leaving it to burn the carpet,
came in the living room where he was sitting in the floor
frustrated with a toy he had been playing with.

He looks up at me, as I stand in what I call my mad momma stance,
hands on hips, and eyebrows raised. He knew exactly
what he had done.

He broke me.
And I snapped.

PARKER, WHAT did you just say?!?!?!!!

I snatched him up, took him to his room
and sat him on his bed and proceeded to
tell him just how disappointed I was in him.
And then I spanked him, he shed a few tears,
and then wouldn't make eye-contact with me.
{proof he inherited the stubborn gene}

It made me sick to my stomache.
Way to make me feel like a failure,
a horrible mom.

Some of you may may try to tell me
that a 3 year old can't possibly understand what he said.
But I know my kid,
and TRUST me,
he knew.
And it broke my heart.

He said his sorry and we went on with the night.

While riding in the car on the way to the family function
we had to attend, I had NO intentions of telling anyone,
because I didn't need to be told what a horrible influence
I am to my own child. The ONE word that slipped out of Parkers
mouth earlier that day had proved that to me.

and then to myself I thought....

....Why do I feel like I'm doing a terrible job?....
....Why won't he listen to a word I say?....
....Did he get that word from ME?!?....
....Maybe he got it from the movies Jeremy and I watch....
....Maybe he's heard another kid say it?....
....Oh my LORD I'm such a failure....

but of course....I blamed myself.

So when I got home and had some free time, I googled
"what to do when toddlers curse", and luckily the site in which
I read from gave me some interesting tips on what to do.

Spanking was not one of them. {oops}

I then stopped feeling bad for myself,
sucked it up,
and told myself that I'm not the only one struggling with this.

;)

H a v e. a. g r e a t. d a y.