A few days ago I had one of *those* days. The baby wasn’t sleeping well and had been up half the night, I didn’t get to shower, the house was still a complete disaster because we’d just moved into it a week prior, and I was feeling extra sorry for myself because it was a Saturday and Chris was headed out to work for an extra long day of flying.
I figured it was inevitable. The grouchiness, that is. I made a feeble effort to be kind but it was pretty well just a big ol’ snowball effect of slightly sharp tones, impatiently barked commands, cold cups of coffee, and way too many expectations.
By the end of the day, I was nearly in tears. I was mad at my kids and mad at myself. The worst thing of all was the disconnect I felt from them as their little hearts and mine clashed and throbbed all day long.
Mom Fail
I posted a status on my personal Facebook account about achieving an “F-minus” in motherhood. Sweet encouragement and words of truth began popping in on my status and in my inbox from mamas who’ve been there and totally get it.
As wisdom and truth began to permeate my heart I could feel my lungs constricting slowly, my shoulders relaxing a tiny bit.
