My son had a meltdown today.
No the minor fit-throwing kind..
The earth is shattering, kicking, screaming, FREAKING out kind.
He laid on the ground.
His sisters waited.
I took deep breaths and attempted to not appear completely rattled.
Or completely embarrassed.
Or completely defeated.
Or completely exhausted.
Or like a complete failure.
My son whacked another kid with a baseball bat.
The child with an egg on his head- now ran to his mother.
He cried. He pointed. He was upset. He had every right to be.
My son laughed. He ran away. He refused to say he was sorry.
I felt ashamed.
I apologized on his behalf.
I scolded. And tried to teach.
Ultimately- we both felt defeated.
My son who is toilet trained… has anxiety… and using the bathroom is challenging.
He went school and had an accident in his pants.
He was playing outside with his friends and got distracted and refused to stop and use the bathroom.
He hid under a table and looked at me… knowing he should be doing something else.
I am told this is a phase.
I am told THIS will pass.
In the moment, it feels impossible as though we’ll ever be past it.
THIS is GROSSSSS! YOU Know better…. COME ON kid. Figure it out!!1
Why can’t you use the bathroom. Just GO when you have to GO!
I feel like a horrible parent when I have had my limit… and I snap.
He feels shameful.
I am heartbroken.
My son play too big. too rough. too long. too hard. too fearlessly.
He misses the shift in his friends mood and keeps poking the bear.
He walks the line too close… tip toeing on his Mum and Dad’s last nerve.
He laughs when he gets in trouble. Even when its not funny.
Especially when it’s not funny.
I loose it.
I send him to his room.
He screams. He cries. I cry.
My firstborn son.
My sweetest love.
Why can’t I find it in my heart to be defined by your best moments.
Not your worst.
The way you care for little sisters.
The way you have literally sacrificed your safety to protect the baby.
The way you make sure everyone has a popsicle or a snack.
The way you snuggle in with Grammy every Friday night.
The way you appreciate the smell of a flower.
The way you pick them for me… because you know it makes me smile.
The way you are learning to hold the door for others.
The way you fall asleep snuggled up with all your favorite keepsakes while sleeping.
The way you ask to be snuggled up while falling asleep.
The patience and tolerance you have for anyone and anything. Un-phased. Calm and leading with your heart.
You’re let it roll off your shoulders attitude when it comes to other kids.
You’re passion for putting your mind to something and working your butt off to achieve it.
The way you get back on the horse every time you fall off.
You’re work ethic.
The way you try. You try. and you try.
Even when it is so much harder for you than your friend.
Why won’t I let myself be defined by your sweetest, kindest, biggest heart.
You my son. Are a miracle. My miracle.
You are all rough and tumble. bumps and bruises. and learning in your own time.
But mostly you are love. kindness. patience.
You are undefinable.
Our children’s behaviors should not define us.
But, to be honest… if I were to be defined by YOU.
By your actions.
By your choices.
By your behavior.
It would be an honor….
-second mom club