Bad Mom

And some days I am just a bad mom.

Today at the dinner table, everyone was screaming. I have a ruptured ear drum, so all this noise was bouncing around inside my head like a ping pong ball.

Finally, I asked for everyone to be quite for two minutes, and of course that led to people dramatically pantomiming their every thought.

And maybe I could have handled all of that if they hadn’t been bouncing off the couches all day, if they hadn’t ignored ever little thing I asked them to do, if they had been respectful.

And it’s my job to teach that – respect and fine behavior. So when they lack it… Well who can I look to but myself.

And the guilt get so heavy. The guilt of failed lessons. The guilt of failed opportunities – we could have been crafting, or reading, or even watching a movie, but instead there was this battle and this chaos.

And I wonder where I go wrong. Why I constantly clean and there’s always a mess. Why I’m constantly asking and there’s never an answer. Why everything is always just so… Much.

And I don’t drink or smoke or do drugs or even drink caffeinated coffee after noon, so instead I’m sitting here in a parking lot, writing on my phone, crying into my Gatorade.

Some days this is just very hard.

And I feel guilty for that.