Mommy, sometimes when you are trying to feed The Mouse you get angry, go into her room and kick the door closed.
Is that what you think I do?
Yeah, you just get up go to Her room and kick the door.
Well, I do sometimes take The Mouse into her room and close the door quickly when she gets distracted and does not eat. But that's it.
He is staring at me confused by my response because it contradicts what he knows is the Truth.
I'm full of shit and we both know it.
Suddenly I saw myself as The Boy saw me and I didn't like what was being reflected.
I didn't want to be that Mother.
The Mother who yelled unspeakable things when she couldn't handle a little bit of stress.
The Mother whose kids sometimes described as being Mean.
The Mother who caused her kids to back away from her in fear.
The Mother whose kids felt the need to deflect her rage by offering unsolicited hugs and kisses.
To see myself through my son's eyes caused indescribable shame.
Shame over the fact that every time I lost my temper I was changing who He was.
Shame over the poor example I was setting.
Don't get frustrated. Ask for help if you need it.
I had given this advice to Him more than I had taken it.
The hypocricy of my words made me sick to my stomach.
I was becoming that Mother.
That all changed the day I sat down with Hubby and confessed my behavior and fear that I was suffering from post-partum depression.
The day when I called my OB office and walked out of there with a prescription.
That was almost three weeks ago.
With much fear, trepidation and a lot of encouragement I began taking those little blue pills. My happy pills.
And they are helping.
I am able to cope better,
(And anyone who has ever lived with a three year old knows that I am being tested. DAILY.)
I am becoming the Mother I want to be.
I don't yell as much. I am calmer. More relaxed. More patient.
Now when I look into my son's eyes I like what I see.