She made her way in, sleepy-eyed and groggy. “Mama, I accidentally had a accident in my bed.” Annoyed, and tired, I huffed out of bed in search of clean PJs.
Peeling the wet ones off I asked, with a tone not so kind, “Did you not go potty before bed?” she whispered, slowly, “I think, I accidentally, free-got.” I sighed, a big sigh.
Not much time passed, I lie awake, one part of the now Quinn sandwich that has become our bed, and my stomach turned.
How unfair of me. How silly and childish of me. I turned and quietly spoke towards her but no one in particular, “I accidentally free-got to let you be little. Mama’s sorry.” It’s so easy to get caught up in being a grown up. A grumpy, sleep-deprived, adult with a bad attitude.
But it’s also easy to apologize. To let our kids know we are human, and we love them regardless of our sometimes less than stellar choices. It’s not the first time I’ve had to apologize to her, and it won’t be the last. Just another piece of mothering.
