Parental Self-Flagellation

There are days where I’m convinced it would have been better had I not gotten out of bed. Where everything is a fight and a struggle. Every little thing the kids do is wrong and my reaction to those things is no better. Heck, even the dogs are steering clear.

Why? What happens that everything if so off? So one of them spills milk. What’s the big deal? Then they pull an attitude and refuse to do anything about the spill. Is that my fault? Are they picking up on my own emotions, thus making them worse off? Is yelling at them for their intransigence really solving anything? Aren’t I just reinforcing a bad attitude as well as modeling exactly how not to deal with a bad situation?

Since, presumably, I’m the only grown-up around at that moment, why couldn’t I act the role? Why should I expect the kids to act the part when I’m incapable?

How do you turn this stuff around? An apology? Will they even understand what I’m apologizing for? Do I just force myself to take everything slowly? Can I right the ship just through an act of will? Against current that are clearly, for today, steering me towards snapping, anger and misdirected sarcasm?

These days where I’m at my worst, and everything that happens seems to drive me further down that path, are the hardest. To hear myself and be unable to stop. To know that I’m not dealing with things properly and feel a hopelessness that I can get it right is frustrating.

The answer is so simple. I tell it to the kids all the time.

Just stop.

But the execution is so difficult.