Parenting is hard.

Yesterday Mommy put herself in timeout.  This is not the first time and I'm willing to bet it will not be the last time I spend 3 minutes in timeout.  Shortly before removing myself from the situation, I heard this shrill yelling, almost threatening, voice in my daughters room.  There was a little 3 year old girl on the floor rolling around with her underwear.  She was experiencing dressing amnesia.  It is a sickness often seen in young children once dressing themselves has stopped being a novelty and turned into a routine expectation.  It is particularly acute when parents are distracted by younger siblings or running late for an appointment.

After observing the 3 year old in her natural habitat.  I continued looking for the source of the awful noise.  There was no one else is the room.  No one that is except me.  I realized, as I shrilly threatened "Put your clothes on NOW or you WILL sit in timeout for THREE minutes", that I had yet again lost it.  I was sounding ridiculous.  I was giving into the frustration of parenting a toddler.  She was winning this battle because I was standing there yelling.  And worst of all?  The grin on her face showed me that she knew it.  I left the room to go sit in my room for a timeout.

Moments like that make me wonder if I made the wrong choice in my life.  I don't always love being a parent.  There are many sides to me and more than a couple of them see this whole parenting gig as not worth the effort.  So many people talk about being in the moment and treasuring your kids.  I constantly hear moms talk about how blessed they are and what a joy it is to stay home with their kids all the time.  They don't want the time to end.  They home school to keep the good times rolling.   I wonder what I'm doing wrong.

There are also moms on the other side of the fence.  And THANKFULLY some of them share their frustration.  I need that more than the air I breath at times.  Hearing that it isn't all rainbows and sunshine.  During my 3 minute timeout I pray for strength to keep my temper and a little detachment to not take her rebellion quite so personally.  As I cool off, I notice that my little 3 year old has recovered from her bout of amnesia and is now fully dressed.  It's magical.  She wonders where Mommy went.  I determine my timeout is over.

I scoop her up and tell her I'm sorry for yelling.  I also slip in a notice of how well she dressed herself. She tells she forgives me and she loves me.  I hope she knows I love her too.