Pride Cometh Before the Fall
It has been one of those days. I have not been in the greatest mood since I woke up this morning. I dreamed Jonathan and I were in a fight and for whatever reason, I have been feeling all day like I am mad at the world and I don't know why. Jonathan sent me an email earlier and was really sweet (like he usually is) and I was like, "doesn't he even remember that we are fighting?" Then I remembered it was all just a dream and we are not fighting and never were...in fact, we watched a movie together last night and went to bed making fun of it and laughing. Anyway, I have been in a bad mood all day.
I decided around 11:30 that I needed to take Landon out of the house for awhile becuase he was driving me nuts and my patience were thin. So I decided to go to the Gap outlet and see if I could get some good sales for him or baby bear. I did get 3 onesies for the baby for $5 and a pair of cute pjs for next winter for Landon. He was testing me more than usual there, but he was manageable. He begged to go to one more store so I took him to Younkers bc I had to buy mascara. While I was doing that he was literally running all around...something he is not allowed to do. I caralled him and let him help me purchase the makeup just to keep him busy. He asked if we could look around some more and I said yes....bad decision.
Two minutes later he knocks an entire rack of baby jeans on the floor. I called him over to help me put them back and he refused (not normal at all). I told him what would happen if he continued to disobey and told him the choice was his...he could help or he could get the consequence. He did not help. In fact, he ran. When I tell you that I had to chase my child THREE times from the front of the store to the back of the store, in between clothing racks and past the same sales lady who was literally glaring at me...I am not exagerrating. In fact, I was in disbelief. My son KNOWS that he is absolutely never allowed to behave like that. He never does it. By the third time my blood was absolutely boiling...seriously. Here I was, hungry, pregnant, carrying a purse and two winter coats and I was weaving around clothing racks trying to catch a three year old who was running back and forth screaming No No No. When I finally got him, I picked him up like an infant, carried him out of the store kicking and screaming (with no coat on) ...and of course we went out the wrong door bc I was so blinded by frustration I wasn't paying attention. I will stop the story there. I am frustrated bc my boy just doesn't usually act like this. I am so confused as to why he thought it was ok to do this today. Secondly, that stupid sales woman that was glaring at me the whole time...she could have helped or at least not made me feel worse. She might as well have said, "Well, you must be a terrible parent who has an out of control kid." Why do I even care what people think? My pride was one of the reasons this whole incident made me so angry. I am a good mother. I have a perfectly obedient son. He would never embarrass me in public like that. Riiiiiiight. Ok, so this was a big stab to my ego. But why do I care what some women in a department store think of me or my child? Why? Why? Why? Why do I always feel the need to be a perfect mother and have a perfect child and a perfect little family and have everyone always see that we are perfectly put together? What does it matter? Truth is, I do have a great little boy who is pretty well behaved. But sometimes he feels the need to remind me, or maybe put me in my place...that he will not always do the right thing. This does not make him bad nor me bad. It makes us human. I guess I just never pictured that the "terrible" mothers I see with "terrible" children would one day mirror myself. My response to my son today...it was something to be ashamed of. I do not yell at my son. It is something I am just not proned to doing and that I abhor when I see other parents doing it. But when I finally got him into the car, I shut my door and I yelled. I admit it. And he was silent except for a few sobs that escaped his lips. I think he didn't know what to think...or what happened to his mommy. After I yelled, I did not feel better. In fact, my throat hurts now and I feel worse...and I am having my first braxton hicks contractions. Thankfully the drive home allowed me to get ahold of myself so that when we got home we could discover those aforementioned consequences in a controlled manner. I am still so frustrated and angry and in a royally bad mood. One minute I am wondering where in the world we went wrong, and the next I am remembering just this morning when Landon was kissing my leg telling me how much he loved me. I am so thankful that he is not a terrible kid that you would see on Nanny 911 or Supernanny...but anyone who saw him today probably thinks so. I guess this is where I just need to be humbled. Who cares what others think. We are honestly doing our best, and in so many ways he is a great kid.
Chicago will be a welcome retreat. I feel buried under a mound of guilt, depression, frustration, and the fallout of having way too much pride. So there you have it...while parenting is a host of good experiences and happy moments that make your heart overflow...it also contains moments that send you to your knees begging God to spare your kids from your own selfishness and pride and praying for wisdom to lead them down the path of righteousness...for their sake, not yours. That is so where I am at this moment...on my knees.
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