parenting is hard
It was just one of the many many lessons I’ve learned from being a mother. Some of the most important parts of my job are to act with kindness and to own my ish. Today everything exploded this morning. Miscommunications, missed expectations, running late to a friend’s house, my oldest suddenly with us instead of having big boy time, the instagram charity auction for Zelie & Co bustling, and a bad night the night before. Cue me shouting and them all shouting and it’s 10 degrees and 20 below windchill and YES YOU MUST WEAR YOUR SNOWPANTS INTO THE CAR. By the time we were all loaded into the car, I felt it. That regretful feeling in my stomach. I’m the adult. I need to control my crabby temper. Just because my kids are being rude and not cooperating doesn’t give me license to let loose on them. I am the adult. And once again, I’ve proven that mothering, for me, is the quickest way to being a better person. Because instead of having control over my life, with minimalism well under way around the house, and days of creative output for me, and a well-balanced diet, and clothes that I enjoy wearing, I’m in the thick of real life with small kids. Our house is messy, our days are well worn with book reading and painting and hide & go-to-seek and naps, I’m eating pepperoni & melted cheese on tortilla chips, and I’m out of shape so my wardrobe is limited…
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