Yesterday my three-and-a-half year old and my two year old came walking past me with blankets and burps cloths that I knew had come from a particular cupboard I had told them to stay out of. I walked into the room where that cupboard was and, sure enough, there were blankets strewn across the floor. I was irate. I wanted to scream at them. Instead I hit the door and slammed it, shutting them out. I began to fold the blankets and rags back up and put them away. As I did, I calmed down. I thought, "What is the matter with me? A few blankets on the floor should not incite that kind of reaction." The whole mess took me a total of two minutes to clean up and the cupboard looked really nice in the end. I came out of the room, reminded my boys not to get into that cupboard unless they ask me, and the day went on.
I've been troubled by this incident. Part of me wants to write it off as my being slightly unhinged as a result of being eight and a half months pregnant. But that excuse irritates me more than it makes me feel better. I consider myself a strong woman, capable of controlling my emotions no matter the environmental factors. I cannot feel justified in railing at my kids just because I was not feeling my best that day. Nor can I become so entrenched in my own small world of home and family that I become a petty, small-minded woman, easily bothered by things of little to no significance. When did such small things become of such import? They didn't. I just didn't take a moment to look at the big picture of the situation. I didn't take that split second to think, "How big a deal is this?" My biggest regret--that I don't know what they were playing with those blankets. I have no idea where their imaginations had taken them that they just had to have those "forbidden" cloths out of that cupboard. I bet it was something pretty cute that could have made me laugh.
No comments:
Post a Comment