As much as I’d like to think I’m a great mother with unlimited amount of patience, I have to admit I’m not. When I have had enough sleep, had something to eat, preferably had some coffee, then I’m totally up for dealing with any situation. I can have a lot of patience. But these days, with an 8-month-old, the things that makes me level-headed don’t always happen.
Like this morning, Joshua woke up around 5:30 am and started crying. There goes my getting enough sleep criterion. So when Cliff brought him into our bed and he refuses to go back to sleep, I think I said “effing hell” and rolled over to cover my head with my pillow. Or like the other day when he woke up from his nap too quickly and refuses to go back to sleep, I said to him, “go the eff back to sleep!” The F word just slips out so easily.
Then after these incidents, I always feel so guilty for losing my cool. I mean, isn’t there a hormone that makes me an angel of a mother once I’ve had a baby? Shouldn’t I have inexhaustible amount of patience for my child? Aren’t all mothers out there calm and collected at all times?
I just just imagine Joshua’s therapy sessions starts with, “When I was a baby, my mother swore at me all the time, and that’s why I am a crack head with a long rap sheet.” Ugh!