5 Reasons I Need to Apologize for my Huge Parenting Fail

I have a confession to make: I’m a yeller.

A lot of people don’t believe me when I say that due to my agreeable personality. That and the fact that I avoid conflict with other adults like the plague.

I was raised by sweet, calm people who would definitely let us know if we were being jerks - by yelling at us. Now I am a mom, and I have four sons. Four sons with completely different personalities. In fact, if I had three more, I could write my own live television version of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves and try to sell it to NBC. I'd bring back Carrie Underwood to play Snow White because I would have to play the wicked queen to my dwarves Pokey, Spazzy, Moody, and Loudy. With so many personalities bouncing off the walls at our house, sometimes I just find my patience wearing thin.

So unfortunately, sometimes I yell at my children. (It's not the first time I've contemplated how I've failed as a parent.)

There was one morning we were running late to school. Everyone had been slow to get out of bed, books and school supplies were mysteriously missing, and the one who had been up the longest suddenly had to take (leave?) an epic poop.

As I sped through the streets in an effort to get to school in the last minutes before the bell rang, I let off a tirade of verbal abuse on my sons.

As they left the car in silence, I pulled out of the school parking lot with tears welling in my eyes. That is not the kind of mom I am, nor that I want to be.

I felt awful all day.

When we returned home that evening we talked about their behavior - and mine - and discussed what needed to change.

And yes, I apologized to my sons for my yelling rant.

In fact, I apologize to my boys quite a bit for five important reasons:

1. It shows them that I am human, too, and that even adults make mistakes. I've never admitted to being perfect, and I don't expect my children to be either. If you push children to perfection, you are setting them up for failure. The same goes for parenting or simply living as a human being.

2. It teaches them how and when to apologize. So often we tell children to apologize. A mumbled "sorry" occurs which no one feels better about; and consequently, children don't learn the proper way to make amends. I apologize because I genuinely feel bad, and hopefully they will take that lead in the future.

3. It shows them that since I love them, I care about their feelings. We can care about people's feelings and not love them, per se; but loving someone and being respectful and gentle with their feelings should go hand-in-hand. It's an important lesson that everyone who plans on being in any kind of relationship should learn.

4. Sometimes we are simply wrong, and apologizing is the right thing to do.  Let's face it, I am not going to be the only adult they ever see displaying socially inappropriate behavior. Our society is defined these days by selfish, anger-filled rants - on television, in the political and news arenas, and on social media. And it's so not cool.

5. You get to make up. Ice cream, popcorn and a movie, a game, a snuggle on the couch - all special perks of making up after you've both behaved badly. Let's face it, they did something boneheaded in the first place; and seeing that their precursor to an apology is doing extra chores or telling me I'm the prettiest mom in the whole world is kinda great.

I'm the first to admit that not all my parenting moments are worthy of a blue ribbon or even a crappy gold star. I know when I should apologize for my decision-making fails. Hopefully my sons will forgive and take my lead the next time they are in the wrong, too.

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stock images on freedigitalphotos.com

What do you think the best thing about apologies is? 

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When you suck at being a grieving parent

Joey is buried in a cemetery that just happens to be right down the street from where I take Slim for bimonthly speech therapy appointments. Last week, the weather was finally not bitterly cold and windy, and I thought for a minute that I should go down the street to the cemetery and visit Joey's grave.

But I didn't.

I didn't go. Because I hate to go there.

The last time I was there was Christmas time. My parents' neighbor had decorated Joey's grave for the Holidays.

As you can see, it still wasn't undecorated for fall. 

Last week I wondered if I should go to see if the neighbor had removed the Christmas items yet.

But I didn't.

I didn't go. Because I hate to go there.

In fact, I hate a lot about the whole "grieving process." I hate that it's called a process. What's to process? My son is dead, and I will never see him again.

And now I have something new in my parenting journey to feel guilty about.

It's not enough that I regularly forget to ask my fifth grader for his discipline card on the weekends so I can sign it for its return on Monday.

It's not enough that my third grader asks me to cuddle with him every night; but instead I am falling asleep in my toddler's bed, also leaving Hubby with no one to cuddle.

It's not enough that I don't make my academically struggling first grader practice reading and math facts more often.

It's not enough that my toddler gets way too much screen time while I am trying to "get things done;" and then I wonder, what in the hell did I even get done today? 

It's not enough that I make the same mediocre dinners night after night.

It's not enough that at least a couple times a week my boys have to dig dirty school clothes out of their hampers because mom hasn't done any laundry in days.

And it's certainly not enough that I am involved in, like, zero committees at the boys' school.

There are so many ways I can make myself feel guilty about not being a good enough regular parent, much less a grieving one.

I mean, I see these beautiful blogs and Facebook pages dedicated to someone's lost child. Foundations and organizations and movements and fundraisers and 5Ks and books and all of the wonderful things that other grieving parents manage to do to honor their children's memories.

And here I sit, unable to even finish what I have started and making excuses as to why I can't. Unable to even go to my son's grave and remove some damned decorations that are three months old.

Because they are still there. Hubby's mother told us they were on her last visit to the grave.

They are there, and I am not.

I would rather tuck my grief away in the privacy of my own mind. It's safer there. Instead of feeding it, I can ignore it. Or only face it sideways rather than sailing directly at it - second star to the right and straight on till morning.

But that only feeds my guilt as well. I have actual plans, just like those other grieving parents do, but they get lost in my complete failure to execute them. The status quo is safer. Acceptance lies in status quo. Good memories lie here under which the bad have long been buried.

To change anything now would be akin to digging up the body, and that would just be too hard.

But it might also take away some of the guilt.

As I stand at Joey's grave up on that god-awful lonely hill, down the hill to the southwest is a stone in the shape of a butterfly. It belongs to a baby girl who lived only a month. 30 days on the earth. I often wonder how many of those days were spent in her mother's arms.

Of the rare times I visit my own son's grave, I often turn toward that child's grave. It is always decorated with balloons and flowers and stuffed animals and holiday decorations.

And I feel guilty that I am not giving my own son those tributes.

But then I realize that child's mother only had 30 days with her, none of which was a holiday or a birthday or any other special day.

I had six birthdays with my son. Five Christmases and Halloweens. Six Easter egg hunts.

Three first days of school.

We had vacations and trips to the park and proud moments watching him go off the diving board for the first time and play soccer with his friends.

That little baby girl's mom didn't get any of that.  She is getting it now, but only in the suckiest way imaginable for any parent.

Grief isn't a competition. No one wins, and there is no judge awarding points for "Best Use of a Lawn Ornament to Spruce up a Headstone."

No one is grieving better than you; just differently. 

As if we don't have enough to feel guilty about as parents, we should not feel guilty about the way we manifest our sadness and grief. A very wise woman - who herself is a grieving daughter and grandmother - once said to me, "Just because you are not there at his grave every day doesn't mean you don't hold him here (she placed her hand over her heart) twenty-four/seven."

I remember taking this picture like it was just yesterday. 

And just like that, she took away some of my guilt, winning this grief round - for now.



This post was syndicated on BonBon Break. 

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I'm an Awesome Mom, and You Can Be, Too (with a little help from MomAssembly)

Once upon a time, I had waited so long to become a mom. And when the day finally arrived, I was lucky enough to be a Mom TIMES TWO! My twins each had to spend a little bit of time in the NICU - Slim about five days longer than Joey.

I brought Joey home first and honestly thought, This is so easy. What are moms complaining about? Once Slim came home, it was a little more hectic; but in no time we were on a schedule of naps and stories and tummy time and feedings. I had the mom gig down to a "T."

Until they were about 15 months old, that is. Then they entered what I would later find out were the beginnings of the "terrible twos."

I mean, holy cow! What had I done wrong? How had I screwed my little darlings up so much that they were throwing temper tantrums and banging their cute little heads on the floor and pulling each other to the ground? Was it because I was pregnant again? Could they sense impending competition? Were they planning a coup d'etat?

Now, nine years, three more babies, and several parenting guffaws later I realize that while some things about parenting were easy for me, I seemed to have put out of my mind the things that were not; namely, the terrible twos. But there were also the sleepless nights trying to nurse two babies, there was a baby who got his nights and days mixed up until he was eleven months old, a baby who wouldn't take a bottle and seemed to want to nurse 24/7, there was a toddler who was extremely jealous of a new baby's arrival (so much so that he punched me right in my engorged breast and gave me mastitis), there was the toddler who wouldn't eat anything but Goldfish crackers, and now, oh my goodness NOW all the sibling rivalry. So much sibling rivalry!

Enter MomAssembly, the world’s first online video-education site for moms. Founded in 2012 by Jill Spivack and Jen Waldburger who have nearly two decades of experience as family and parent educators, MomAssembly is an interactive university, available 24-7 from the comfort of your home giving you all the information you need to raise happy, healthy kids. Man, I wish this had been around a decade ago! With access to over 500 courses by world renowned parenting experts that you can watch on your own time frame, there is bound to be a solution and some advice to every parenting issue you're facing from newborn care to sleep to safety to discipline and behavior and much much more!

Every course has about a two minute sample clip you can view to see if you want to buy the course, and each course comes with several classes that are between 5 - 10 minutes long, perfect for fitting in to your busy schedule. The courses cover topics from birth to school-aged children and are child-oriented and parent-focused. Even a five-time veteran mom like me can learn something new.

I just wrote a post about potty training (cause I know a thing or two), but MomAssembly has a course for that, too! If you don't want to take my advice or you're still not sure if your child is ready to start, watch this clip. It gives you a taste of what you can expect from each MomAssembly course:




And now MomAssembly wants to offer you a chance to try their courses for free. The first 10 readers to complete sign up for a subscription plan will receive their first month free! You will have to actually sign up for a plan and enter your credit card information - though the card will not be charged until the end of your free trial.  You will then receive an email from Jill or Jen notifying you that you have won a free month. It's that easy.

So to review: parenting issues ----> MomAssembly advice ---->quick, convenient, and inexpensive videos---->free month trial---->chance to win a free month.

What's not to like? What's not to try? Do yourself a favor and browse some of their courses here. If you want to be one of the lucky ten who gets a free month's subscription, click this link and sign up now.

Hubby and I are working our way through a course on raising kids other people will like to be around ('cause let's face it, they're not always a joy at home). I have my eye on a few other discipline and parenting courses as well.

In parenting, there is always something we can learn. Let's let the experts at MomAssembly take some of the work out of it for us so we are free to learn, grow, and love.

What do you want to learn about today?

*I was compensated by MomAssembly for this post, but the admission of my parenting failures and my thankfulness for MomAssembly's parenting videos are all my own.

Is It Monday Again?

I have often said I am a Monday person.

Cheated on my healthy eating plan? I’ll start over again on Monday.

Fell off the exercise wagon? I’ll go back to the gym on Monday.

My house is a mess and I’ve been crabby with my sons? I’ll clean up and do better on Monday.

Didn’t write anything all week? I’ll post something on Monday.

For me, life has been an endless series of Mondays. Until Tuesday comes, that is.

Tuesday is when . . . .

 . . . Head on over to Mamalode to continue reading "An Endless Series of Mondays."

 

 

 

One Long Epic #parentingfail

Do you ever have one of those days when you feel like your entire tenure as a parent has been one big fat huge #fail? When you look back and wonder why you answered the call of the wild in the first place and decided to bring forth the fruit of your loins?

You think, Maybe if I had never given him a bite of that donut when he was 9 months old, he wouldn't have such a sweet tooth now.

Or, GAH! Maybe if I didn't yell so much, she wouldn't be snapping at her younger sister.

Or, SMH, maybe if I would have made him sleep in his bed from the beginning, he wouldn't be such a clingy little worrier.

Or maybe, just maybe, you think, If I would just keep taking my antidepressant, maybe I wouldn't yell at my kids like a crazy woman whom they will all shun one day.

Or maybe, you wake up in a perfectly great mood several days in a row, but Crabby Craberson is snapping at everyone and bringing you down. And Yelly VonYellerschnitz is driving you crazy with his stuck-on-one-decibel volume. And Pokey McOhMyGwadWhyWon'tHeHurryUp?! is threatening to push you over the brink of insanity (Or is it sanity? You don't know because YOU HAVE LOST YOUR EVER-LOVING MIND!).

And then you think, What in the hell have I created here? Because you know it is All. Your. Fault. It's always the Mom's fault. Catholic Guilt? Pfffft! That ain't got nothin' on Mom Guilt - the beast that makes us all crazy, gray-haired, wild-eyed, drooling, mental patients by the time our kids graduate from pre-school.

It convinces us we are doing it all wrong. Our kids will be screwed up for life if WE do not get OUR acts together. The hugs and kisses, the attempts at healthy home-cooked meals, the bedtime stories, volunteering as room mother - they are not enough, Woman! You must do more, you must do it better, you must do it more often. More, more, more. Better, better, better.

But you still feel it's only mess, mess, mess. And you are bitter, bitter, bitter.

Then, as if just to save your sanity, little Sweetie J. Petey comes out of nowhere and wraps his arms around your neck and says, "I luff you, Mommy," and kisses you right on your nose.

And you think, Maybe I'm not a #completefailure after all.

Maybe I Should Just Give In

I was awakened a little before six o'clock this morning. Baby E was calling for me. I lumbered down the hall and opened the door to his room. He was standing up in his crib, hair wild and curly from sleep.

"Milk." It was more of a demand than a question. I was hoping just to plop him in my bed and catch another hour of sleep, but drinking milk meant he'd probably be wide awake. Regardless, we went down to the kitchen and got him some milk, which he grabbed and gulped right away.

Hopeful, I took him back to my bed and plopped him in. He lay down on the pillow between Hubby and me, thirstily drinking his milk. I closed my eyes and closed an arm around his tiny waist.

I felt a little knock on my arm. He was giving me his empty sippy cup. I set it on the nightstand and waited for the assault to begin. Usually, when he is in my bed, he sees it as a huge playground. He giggles and throws himself around on the big soft mattress, slamming his big toddler head right into my brow bone (do they teach them that at fetus school - I mean how much does that hurt??).

But this time, he snuggled in as close to my body as he could get. I could feel his sweet, cold, milky breath on my face, and soon he was asleep again.

We've never been traditional co-sleepers, but this last little kid has given me the biggest argument for it. He has probably slept in our bed - for at least part of the night - more than any of the other boys combined. Perhaps it is because I know he is my last, so I realize these tiny little snuggles are fleeting. He will turn two in a couple weeks, and he's already getting a little too big for his 2T britches. I'll take the snuggles for as long as I can get them. . .

I have a short little post on Mamalode about fleeting moments like the one above. Before you go, tell me, do/did you co-sleep? Do you let your kids come into your bed when they are scared or lonely?

Thanks for reading!

I'm A Mom of the Year!

I am absolutely thrilled to be a guest today over at my friend Meredith's blog, The Mom of the Year. She is one of those people I have gotten to know online that I cannot wait to meet in person.

She is sweet, funny, and most importantly - real. Her blog name is kind of an oxymoron. She will be the first to admit that she does not have it all together; but with her darling little family, she does have it all. You may remember her from her guest post here about a month ago called In with the Cool Crowd.

She is inviting guests to a series of posts called - drum roll . . .

Aww, shucks. My first real trophy for this lifetime gig.

I'm over there today talking about how it took that certain tragic event in our lives for me to realize that I didn't have to be a perfect mom; heck, I didn't even have to pretend anymore.

 

Well, what are you waiting for? Head over to The Mom of the Year to read Moms of the Year: In it Together.

 

Look around a bit while you're there. I guarantee you'll love Meredith's blog!

 

 

 

 

My View

I've written two posts for Her View From Home this week. My first, on Monday, was a personal piece about my struggles with depression.

The issue is a double-edged sword. As more women move toward blogging and therefore talking about everything, there is still a stigma attached to depression and particularly the use of anti-depressants.

I'm not sure if I'd be so freely talking about it if Joey's illness had not prompted me to seek medication in the first place. Maybe I would, I don't know.

But I'm glad I have, as so many women are willing to share their struggles and triumphs and offer helpful advice and encouragement (at least on MY Facebook wall - THANK YOU for that!).

You can read Confession: I'm a Mom on Meds at Her View From Home.

My piece today is yet another admission of parenting imperfection called 10 Things I Swore I'd Never Let My Kids Do (And why they do them anyway).

Isn't it funny how life is so much different than you ever thought it would be?

I really want to thank all of you who comment here, on Facebook, and on Her View From Home. Feedback really means a lot to those of us who put ourselves out there. And it means even more when you are willing to listen and comment thoughtfully and respectfully. I have read at least four comment streams lately where women were just so judgy and downright mean to each other.

I really try hard to be a fence-sitter. From that vantage point, I can see both sides. I know which side I would jump to if I had to, but if I landed on the other side, I could at least make my way. Understanding is the key to peace in this crazy world, and I thank those of you who at least try.


On your way over to Her View From Home, check out and "like" their Facebook page for other great posts, recipes, crafts, and giveaways.