I woke up this morning to more yelling, crying, stomping and door slamming.
The children, they have a serious love/hate thing going on. With each other and with my husband and I and with a leaf that had the nerve to blow by (how dare it).
It seems so incessant, the sibling fighting, that we begin to lose our marbles. One by one, I can practically hear those precious marbles dropping out of my head and onto the hardwood floor with a gentle smack, and rolling away under the couch (where things go when they want to never be found again).
Today I said to my husband, “let’s try parenting them as if they were someone else’s kids“. It was my own little experiment, and I didn’t like the results.
When we acted as if they were someone else’s, we yelled less, had more patience, found more activities to do and were just better people. I hate to admit it, but it’s true.
Why we’d rather leave someone else’s children pristine and show them our best side, when we don’t regularly do that for our own little people that we are raising, I don’t quite understand. But I know my house is cleaner and I bake brownies and I may even shower — when other kids come over. It’s gotten to the point that when I just fix myself up, the boys tell me I look so nice — but I know it’s just because they’re used to me not even putting on a bra most days.
I’m going to work on being the mom that I know is inside me, with or without all my marbles intact. They deserve the real me, but they also deserve the best me.