Trying to be Christlike - it's hard

Very long journal entry about hard parenting. I'm struggling, and just want to warn those of you that might read this that in this post, I'm very un-Christlike. It hurts to know I was like this. Very much.

For the past few weeks, the boys and I have really struggled with getting out the door to school on time. It's like they forgot what "let's get ready for school" means. In my head I'm thinking, "Get dressed (including shoes and socks), make your bed, eat breakfast, brush your teeth, comb your hair, make sure your homework folder is in your backpack with your completed homework, and make sure you have your coat."

So, I'd call down the stairs that it was time to go, and they'd run out of the living room with no shoes or socks on, calling, "But, Mom, I've got to brush my teeth still." Grr. So, they'd come up, I'd run a comb through their hair and tell them to get in the van. "But, Mom, I don't know where my coat is. It's not hanging up in the closet." Or, "Mom, I don't know where my homework is." Double Grr.

So, our mornings have been filled with tantrums (on their part), yelling (on my part), and bad feelings all around. So, one morning in the van, after tears by most everybody, and me feeling incredibly like the world's worst mother for yelling at my children, even while I see tears in their eyes and knowing that the yelling isn't helping, I explained (again) what EXACTLY I expected of them in the morning. I mean, come on, they're (almost) 9 and 7 years old. They don't need me to be there, by their side, every step of the way telling them what to do next. Do they?

We've still had a lot of rough days, but I've been trying to control my temper, although I sometimes fail. Like yesterday. B had a meltdown because he couldn't find his sweater. He swore up and down that he had put it in his drawer where he was supposed to, but I kept telling him it was in the living room where I had seen him take it off. He fell to the floor of his bedroom, whining and upset, insisting that he had put it away. By this point, we were late, so I marched downstairs, very frustrated, and found his sweater for him - exactly where I told him it was. *sigh*

We got in the van and started to go, when Gavin piped up, "Mom, I can't do up my buckle - it's too hard. (Gavin does this all the time, but in actuality, he can do up his buckle. He just gets lazy sometimes.) Triple Grr, by this point. I got out of the van, walked around to Gavin's side, did up his buckle, all the while getting mad at B - out loud. I watched his little eyes fill up with tears, and yet, I still kept berating him.

Halfway to school, I was mentally kicking myself. "What the heck am I doing? I'm SO stupid. Grr. Okay, so he couldn't find his sweater. Big deal. We're a little late for school. Big deal. Is it worth it to yell at my son and see his eyes fill with tears?" Absolutely not. So, I pulled over, and we said our morning prayers, then we headed on to school. Before B got out, I apologized, and we made a pact that both of us would try harder.

We had a good talk last night. Apparently, there are some 3rd graders at school that have verbally taunted B. They haven't touched him, or hurt him, but they have frightened him a bit with their words and actions. He has frequently said that his tummy hurts in the morning, and that he doesn't want to go to school. After keeping him home a couple of times and seeing that he's just fine, I started brushing him off. Now, I'm wondering if he's being bullied and doesn't know how to handle it.

I talked with him and explained that if someone is hurting him, it's okay to stick up for himself. He can go get a teacher, and if the teacher doesn't listen, he's to go to the principal's office. He was concerned that the secretary in the office wouldn't let him talk to the principal, so I told him to call me, and I'd come down with him.

The mother bear in me reared up when I heard that someone was bugging B, and that there was a possibility that the teacher on duty at recess or lunch wouldn't do anything about it. Part of me wants to go knock some sense into those kids that are picking on a student that's younger than them. Verbal abuse hurts, just like physical abuse hurts. It makes me mad, and it makes me even more upset that I was probably making it worse by getting upset at him in the mornings. No wonder he goes slow - he doesn't want to be picked on at school. I'd drag my feet getting ready, too. *sigh*

Now, keep in mind that Scott has been on the yelling end of this too, and has seen most everything that has gone on between B and me. But, this morning, he got up, got himself fully dressed, ate breakfast, and then came in to wake me up and tell me he was ready. So, I got up and got B and myself some breakfast. While I was doing that, Scott decided that he wanted a lunch from home, so he proceeded to make himself a lunch. He was happy, and made a point to tell me several times that he had done this on his own so that we wouldn't be late. I just wanted to cry at this point - do you think my actions (yelling) have affected him? *sigh* Instead, I thanked him and gave him a hug and just held him for a minute.

But, what an awesome little boy I have. He doesn't like me being upset (and he doesn't like it when I'm mad at him), so he took it upon himself to get up early and get ready. I love my little bug. B again complained of a hurt tummy, but I sent him to school anyway, with lots of hugs and declarations of loving him for infinity.

Scott reminded me this morning of what good little boys they are. I really do have good boys, who normally don't act out, unless something is bothering them. I realized that I need to be more in tune with my boys and what they're feeling. There are times when I know exactly what to do to make my boys feel better - especially B. He's a lot like I am, so I'm able to read him almost dead on in knowing whether to walk away and leave him alone, or to sit down with him and let him cry. I just haven't been paying attention lately, and have missed some signals that he's sent - the moodiness, the tears, no desire to do homework. I've just chalked it up to him being ornery, so I've been ornery right back. *sigh* Parenting is hard.

I've also realized that while Scott loves and excels in math, B hates it. He's like me. He does okay in most things, but if you give him something new his brain just can't wrap around it. He's got to have it explained over and over and over again before he finally gets an inkling of what it's about. And, in between all of the explaining, he gets frustrated and mad, which makes it frustrating to try and help him do his homework. I remember because I was like that. Math is/was my enemy. I'm grateful his dad is "well-versed" in math, because I'm not going to be much help to him.

Now, here's the reason I act like I do (besides the fact that I just had a baby.) About three years ago, I was diagnosed with PMDD, and have been on medication to try and help with the symptoms. It was a relief to know why I felt and acted the way I did, and to be on medication. I can truly say that it has helped. A lot. I still struggle (evidence of the way I've been acting towards my kids), but it's a learning process, and I'm still learning. I still feel myself spiral out every couple of weeks, but I can now recognize the symptoms and make a big effort to keep it under control. I guess I lost that this time around. Time to do better, Renee. For you, and your kids.

*sigh* This is much too long, but I had to write it out. This is my journal, and I wanted to write it down so I can go back and re-read it. I hope I can remember this, and try harder to do better. I hope I haven't caused any of you to draw back in shock, mouths open in horror at my actions. (Trust me, I wouldn't blame you if you did - I look back on things I've done and am shocked at my actions. How can I be like this?) I've long had a temper (I can remember it as far back as when I was a very little girl) that I've tried to reign in. Sometimes I do a remarkable job - other times, well, not so much.

But, I'm trying to do better, and trying to remember that these kids are my Heavenly Father's children, too. It's sobering. And a good reminder that no matter what I do, my Heavenly Father still loves me. And, I mess up a lot, and I'm an adult, but my Heavenly Father doesn't yell at me for my mistakes. Instead, he lovingly shows me a better way. My kids are going to mess up - they're kids, after all - so I need to learn from my Father's example. I'm just grateful for the patience and forgiveness my children show me. They're a great example for me of doing better. I just pray that this time it has finally sunk into my stubborn brain.