I had that morning this morning. That parent morning that moves in slow motion, but the clock is in fast forward. Tic-toc-tic-toc. It was a hectic morning where I was up working at 5:30 to fix something and Mason was unexpectedly called in early because one of the guys was sick. We were already late for a regular morning, and Mason still had to get the cat out to the vet (20 minutes away) for his scheduled nutectomy and rabies shot. Poor Clare. She woke up with her precious smile and desired our attention and we did everything we could to put her on “snooze”. We sat her on the couch with her waffle and her chocolate milk and her cartoons while the two of us rushed. No time for her this morning. Just time enough to take care of her physical needs, you know food, shower, but rush rush rush…everything was “hurry this, and hurry that.” No time for her playful needs or her smiles. “Come on Clare, let’s go, help Mommy out here.” I’m literally and figuratively at my wits end trying to get out of the house on time because I have a 4:30 hair appointment and lord knows I’m not giving that up (can you say desperately misguided priorities). So I rush my daughter over something stupid and unimportant. I pull her pants down for her to have a last minute teetee before we go to school. Any guesses what I found? She had peed in her pants. In my mind I lost my cool for a second. I stared down at the floor and her bare bottom and raised my hand to pop her, and I watched my hand move closer to her bottom. Then something stopped me. I think it was God. I don’t want to hit my child – at all – but much less over a little teetee in some pants on a morning where she needed my attention and this was her only way to get it. I didn’t pop her little precious bottom because we truly do want to be a no-hit family (and she’s just so cute). But I was still mad, I barked and growled at her about how she knows how to use the bathroom in the potty, yada yada yada…I stomped around to get her clean underpants and barked and growled some more because of her defiant behavior earlier that morning and how this and that and this and that. Tell me, at this point, who sounds more like the 2 year old?

So, we were not ok from that point forward, she was really quiet and confused and I was just rushing in a bad mood now. I got us both in the car and said something about stop tee teeing in your pants, blah blah blah, and then I turned on the news and we rode school and work in silence. This is not the way we go to school. We’re always singing, laughing, talking…this is not us. When we got to school, my most precious beautiful little girl looked at me sheepishly and said, “Mommy happy?” Oh my gosh, I’m such an asshole. I just started crying. “Yes baby, Mommy happy.” I probably hugged her a little too often, hung around a little longer than necessary at school and called to reschedule my hair appointment. She and I are going out tonight – to get ice cream.

I don’t hide my ugly, I put it out there for everyone to see. I do it because I think we’re all ugly inside and I wish we had the courage to admit it so we could learn from it and let go of it. I’m ashamed that I’m not perfect, I think this is normal…I think in some ways we all think we should be? Who knows why, maybe because we had mean old mommies who told us not to pee in our pants because it’s gross (only kidding here of course). I will say that I prayed after all this a prayer of thanks for God exposing this in me and I prayer requesting that God heal in me whatever made that behavior a possibility. I also think I would like for him to show me how to think through a situation to it's solution before the problem arises - I'm notoriously short sighted when I'm frustrated. I bet tomorrow morning, I make time for Clare and hopefully every morning after that. I can't change unexpected surprises - I can change my reaction.