Welcome to my big, fat week of failing at life

You know that stress you feel when your 4 year old gets diagnosed with strep throat and you take one day away from the office (and you do actually work from home) to be with him but your phone and email blow up the whole time, and you know you have to figure something else out for the rest of the week?  

And the insane guilt you feel when his fever finally breaks and he is no longer contagious but still feels terrible but you have exhausted all of your options and so have to send him to school? And he cries and begs you not to leave him but you have no choice and you go out to your car and cry?

And the overwhelming, anxiety-meds-doing-not-a-lick-of-good, oh great are those Braxton hicks contractions? anxiety you feel when you get a call telling you that your boyfriend is about to get a call giving him bad news and you need to get home now so that he isn't alone when he gets it and then you sit in traffic for two hours because there are wrecks everywhere and you are crying and doing everything in your power not to have an anxiety attack and then you have one anyway?  And then you get home and he takes one look at you and instantly panics that something is wrong with the baby so you have to break the actual news to him, and you hate everything about that moment?

Probably you don't know that specific mess, but you've had a week like that.  I'm certain of it.

And I could tell I wasn't holding it together very well.  I could tell it was all about to come ripping apart at the seams.  I could feel it welling up.

The kids got into a fight about milk this morning, and I just lost it.  Silas did not feel good and was whiney.  Gavin was just being his mischievous, almost one year old, into everything self.  
I made the mistake of leaving Silas' milk down on his table which Gavin can reach.  Gavin grabbed it and spilled it everywhere.  Silas began wailing and yelling at Gavin.

And that is when I snapped.  I yelled.  We all cried.  I apologized and hugged and apologized and hugged some more.

And now I am so upset with myself.  

Why did I come apart on my kids?  Why not an adult who could handle it?  Or better yet, why didn't I just step back and take a moment to collect myself when I could feel that tension welling?

These are the days that haunt me.  The days when all I know to do is pray to do better and be a better mom.  

These are the days I wish I could take back.

But I can't take it back.  I can't undo it.  The only choice I have is to learn from it.

So, learn from me.

When you know that you are approaching your breaking point, step away and do not traumatize your children and perpetuate the ugly mom guilt cycle.