I don't even know where to begin. I have so much to say about what happened this afternoon between Benjamin and I, but due to my emotional state, I find myself unable to organize my thoughts and feelings into a logical, cohesive blog entry. So I'm sorry, but I am about to start rambling. Here I go.
It started with Benjamin asking to go to the train store. He's been begging to go for weeks now, so I finally gave in today and told him that we would walk there after his nap. I've also been meaning to return some books to the library, so I thought we'd make an afternoon of it and hit both destinations, getting myself a good run in at the same time. Then we could cap the day off with a hamburger and french fries at the diner next to the train store, giving Ben his favorite dinner and myself a night off from cooking. It was going to be a great afternoon with my boys.
We made it to the library without incident. But then the double stroller wouldn't fit through the library entrance and it all went downhill from there. I parked the stroller, but didn't feel comfortable leaving my cell phone and cash in it while we were inside. However, my running shorts are pocketless and between carrying Brayden and the books, I didn't have anywhere to put the money. Spying Benjamin's jeans, I decided to stow it in one of his pockets. Even as I was tucking the $40 into his jeans, I heard a little voice in my head saying, "This isn't a good idea." Unfortunately for all of us, I ignored that voice.
So into the library we go. Me, hot and sweaty from running, carrying a 17 pound Brayden on one hip and five hardback books on the other, and Benjamin, curiously inspecting all the currency I just deposited into his pocket. I tell him to leave the money alone and usher him towards the children's section to pick out some books, unloading the ones in my arms along the way. As I hand him a book to look at while I browse the shelves, I remind him again to leave the money in his pocket, still ignoring that voice that is getting a little louder now. I roam up and down the aisles, having no luck looking for the books I want, all the while holding Brayden, who is feeling very heavy by now, and supplying Benjamin with Thomas-the-Train books to keep him occupied. Just as I settle on a few books to check out, Ben runs up to me and informs me that he took the money out of his pocket. I quickly feel for the cash, but it's gone. I ask him where he put it and he gives me his favorite phrase of late, "I don't know!" I start scanning the ground but there is no money to be found. I check his pockets again, but no money. I keep asking him where the money is and he keeps saying, "I don't know!" I look for ten minutes, but it's gone.
You know how sometimes in movies the character has a decision to make and on one shoulder sits an angel, telling him the right thing to do (usually the harder thing) and on the other shoulder sits the devil, telling him the wrong thing to do (usually the thing the character wants to do, but knows he shouldn't)? That's how I felt at that moment. I knew that it was not Benjamin's fault that the money was gone. I demonstrated poor judgement when I put it in his pocket, especially when I saw him pull it out multiple times. The angel was telling me to be calm and rational. "It's only money," it said. "He's only two years old. He doesn't understand the significance of what he did," it pointed out. "You knew it was stupid to give it to him in the first place."
However, these good points the angel made were mere whispers compared to the devils voice, who has an uncanny ability to drown out all sense of logic. His voice yelled, "You told him to leave the money in his pocket! He never listens to you! Why can't he just remember where he put it? It happened less than 30 seconds ago! What else does he have to remember? Doesn't he understand that $40 is a lot of money? He doesn't care how upset you are about this, he has absolutely no respect for you! You must punish him for this!"
The devil won. After deciding that it was a lost cause to continue looking for the cash, I told Ben we were leaving. No, he was not getting any Thomas books to take home like I promised, because little boys who don't listen to their mommies when they tell them to leave things in their pockets don't get to check out library books. (Yep, I said that.) At that news, Benjamin loudly began to cry and took off through the library when I tried to take his hand to lead him outside. I pursued him and as I grabbed his arm, he screamed as loud as he could and let his body go limp so I was literally dragging him on the floor. I bent down, scooped him up, and carried him out in a football hold, while the entire library watched. I'm sure it was quite a sight since I still had Brayden in my other arm. When we reached the stroller I put Benjamin down to strap Brayden in and of course he took off like a shot. I grabbed him just before he ran into the parking lot and wrestled him into the stroller, as more library patrons looked on. I was literally shaking with emotion as we left the parking lot and Benjamin was sobbing loudly that he wants to go to the train store. I snapped at him that there was absolutely no way we were going to the train store after that kind of behavior, which caused him to cry even louder. I asked him, "Do you want a spanking when we get home? Then shut your mouth!" Yes, I actually said "Shut your mouth" to him. I can't believe it either.
That's when I began crying. I couldn't believe that I was talking to my precious little boy this way. What was wrong with me? But I didn't stop there. As I walked, I thought about how difficult it has been to parent Benjamin lately. The terrible two's have hit us hard. My once golden baby and toddler has turned into a defiant, tantrum throwing, disrespectful preschooler and today I reached my limit. Everyday is a battle and all my anger and frustration came pouring out of me like boiling lava from a volcano that hasn't erupted in a thousand years. As I pushed the stroller and cried, I despaired to my son "Why didn't you just leave the money in your pocket like I told you? Why couldn't you just remember where you put it? Why can't you just do what I say? Why do you have to throw a tantrum every time you don't get your way? Why? Why? Why?" And at every question I cried at him, he sobbed back, "I don't know! I don't know! I don't know!" Those cries will haunt me for a very long time, I'm afraid.
My heart breaks thinking back on that long walk home this afternoon. Though I was directing my anger at my son, it was myself that I was angry at. Angry that I didn't control my temper. Angry that I talked to my child that way. Angry that after all the thousands of dollars that was spent on my education to earn a degree in child development and the years of experience I have with children, I still don't know how to deal with my own child's very typical behavior issues. Give me any other kid to teach and discipline and I've got all the answers. Not with my own child, though.
I don't know if I will ever forgive myself for my actions today. I take little solace in the fact that I didn't physically harm him, because I think words can hurt just as much, if not deeper. Though I will take him to his beloved train store tomorrow, will that be enough to make up for the fact that I completely lost my temper with him today? Will he always carry with him the words that I threw at him as we both cried, the ones that accused him of being a difficult child that never listens? Because of today, will he always have a tiny fear in the back of his mind, a fear that he can't put a finger on but lingers just the same, one that questions if his mother really loves him?
Oh, Benjamin, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that I yelled at you. I'm sorry that I didn't let you bring a Thomas book home like I promised and that I didn't take you to the train store. I'm sorry I tasked you with a completely unfair responsibility and then had the audacity to blame you when you didn't live up to my impossible expectations. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. If every tear that I have cried tonight while reliving this dreadful afternoon was an apology, you'd have heard at least 1,000 "I'm sorry's."
Will you ever forgive me?
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**Update**
I went back to the library today (without Ben) to get the books that were left behind the day before and also to ask the staff if anyone had found the missing cash. Not surprisingly, it hadn't been turned in, but they offered to call me if it was found (though I knew there was hardly any chance of this happening). I thanked the staff and directed my attention to finding books on effective discipline for preschoolers (as Oprah says, "To know better is to do better!") I headed home, eager to surprise Benjamin with the Thomas book he so desperately wanted. Sure enough, he was thrilled when he saw what I had for him and we read the book together before he went down for his nap (without a fight this time, too!).
As I started in on my own books, the phone rang. It was the library. Someone had found my money on a bookshelf and turned it in. I was floored. I absolutely could not believe it. Thrilled, I told them I'd be there later that afternoon to pick it up. After Ben woke up from his nap, I shared the good news and told him that after we stopped at the library, I would take him to the train store. Off we went and I even got him that hamburger afterwards, all like I had planned the day before.
I still feel terrible about what transpired yesterday. Though one day I may forgive myself, I cannot and will not forget the way I lost my temper and took my anger out on my son, because I never want to stop trying to be a better mother. I firmly believe that we learn best from our mistakes and I am absolutely determined to find the lessons in that terribly sad afternoon. I refuse to let all those tears be for naught...mine or Benjamin's.
It started with Benjamin asking to go to the train store. He's been begging to go for weeks now, so I finally gave in today and told him that we would walk there after his nap. I've also been meaning to return some books to the library, so I thought we'd make an afternoon of it and hit both destinations, getting myself a good run in at the same time. Then we could cap the day off with a hamburger and french fries at the diner next to the train store, giving Ben his favorite dinner and myself a night off from cooking. It was going to be a great afternoon with my boys.
We made it to the library without incident. But then the double stroller wouldn't fit through the library entrance and it all went downhill from there. I parked the stroller, but didn't feel comfortable leaving my cell phone and cash in it while we were inside. However, my running shorts are pocketless and between carrying Brayden and the books, I didn't have anywhere to put the money. Spying Benjamin's jeans, I decided to stow it in one of his pockets. Even as I was tucking the $40 into his jeans, I heard a little voice in my head saying, "This isn't a good idea." Unfortunately for all of us, I ignored that voice.
So into the library we go. Me, hot and sweaty from running, carrying a 17 pound Brayden on one hip and five hardback books on the other, and Benjamin, curiously inspecting all the currency I just deposited into his pocket. I tell him to leave the money alone and usher him towards the children's section to pick out some books, unloading the ones in my arms along the way. As I hand him a book to look at while I browse the shelves, I remind him again to leave the money in his pocket, still ignoring that voice that is getting a little louder now. I roam up and down the aisles, having no luck looking for the books I want, all the while holding Brayden, who is feeling very heavy by now, and supplying Benjamin with Thomas-the-Train books to keep him occupied. Just as I settle on a few books to check out, Ben runs up to me and informs me that he took the money out of his pocket. I quickly feel for the cash, but it's gone. I ask him where he put it and he gives me his favorite phrase of late, "I don't know!" I start scanning the ground but there is no money to be found. I check his pockets again, but no money. I keep asking him where the money is and he keeps saying, "I don't know!" I look for ten minutes, but it's gone.
You know how sometimes in movies the character has a decision to make and on one shoulder sits an angel, telling him the right thing to do (usually the harder thing) and on the other shoulder sits the devil, telling him the wrong thing to do (usually the thing the character wants to do, but knows he shouldn't)? That's how I felt at that moment. I knew that it was not Benjamin's fault that the money was gone. I demonstrated poor judgement when I put it in his pocket, especially when I saw him pull it out multiple times. The angel was telling me to be calm and rational. "It's only money," it said. "He's only two years old. He doesn't understand the significance of what he did," it pointed out. "You knew it was stupid to give it to him in the first place."
However, these good points the angel made were mere whispers compared to the devils voice, who has an uncanny ability to drown out all sense of logic. His voice yelled, "You told him to leave the money in his pocket! He never listens to you! Why can't he just remember where he put it? It happened less than 30 seconds ago! What else does he have to remember? Doesn't he understand that $40 is a lot of money? He doesn't care how upset you are about this, he has absolutely no respect for you! You must punish him for this!"
The devil won. After deciding that it was a lost cause to continue looking for the cash, I told Ben we were leaving. No, he was not getting any Thomas books to take home like I promised, because little boys who don't listen to their mommies when they tell them to leave things in their pockets don't get to check out library books. (Yep, I said that.) At that news, Benjamin loudly began to cry and took off through the library when I tried to take his hand to lead him outside. I pursued him and as I grabbed his arm, he screamed as loud as he could and let his body go limp so I was literally dragging him on the floor. I bent down, scooped him up, and carried him out in a football hold, while the entire library watched. I'm sure it was quite a sight since I still had Brayden in my other arm. When we reached the stroller I put Benjamin down to strap Brayden in and of course he took off like a shot. I grabbed him just before he ran into the parking lot and wrestled him into the stroller, as more library patrons looked on. I was literally shaking with emotion as we left the parking lot and Benjamin was sobbing loudly that he wants to go to the train store. I snapped at him that there was absolutely no way we were going to the train store after that kind of behavior, which caused him to cry even louder. I asked him, "Do you want a spanking when we get home? Then shut your mouth!" Yes, I actually said "Shut your mouth" to him. I can't believe it either.
That's when I began crying. I couldn't believe that I was talking to my precious little boy this way. What was wrong with me? But I didn't stop there. As I walked, I thought about how difficult it has been to parent Benjamin lately. The terrible two's have hit us hard. My once golden baby and toddler has turned into a defiant, tantrum throwing, disrespectful preschooler and today I reached my limit. Everyday is a battle and all my anger and frustration came pouring out of me like boiling lava from a volcano that hasn't erupted in a thousand years. As I pushed the stroller and cried, I despaired to my son "Why didn't you just leave the money in your pocket like I told you? Why couldn't you just remember where you put it? Why can't you just do what I say? Why do you have to throw a tantrum every time you don't get your way? Why? Why? Why?" And at every question I cried at him, he sobbed back, "I don't know! I don't know! I don't know!" Those cries will haunt me for a very long time, I'm afraid.
My heart breaks thinking back on that long walk home this afternoon. Though I was directing my anger at my son, it was myself that I was angry at. Angry that I didn't control my temper. Angry that I talked to my child that way. Angry that after all the thousands of dollars that was spent on my education to earn a degree in child development and the years of experience I have with children, I still don't know how to deal with my own child's very typical behavior issues. Give me any other kid to teach and discipline and I've got all the answers. Not with my own child, though.
I don't know if I will ever forgive myself for my actions today. I take little solace in the fact that I didn't physically harm him, because I think words can hurt just as much, if not deeper. Though I will take him to his beloved train store tomorrow, will that be enough to make up for the fact that I completely lost my temper with him today? Will he always carry with him the words that I threw at him as we both cried, the ones that accused him of being a difficult child that never listens? Because of today, will he always have a tiny fear in the back of his mind, a fear that he can't put a finger on but lingers just the same, one that questions if his mother really loves him?
Oh, Benjamin, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that I yelled at you. I'm sorry that I didn't let you bring a Thomas book home like I promised and that I didn't take you to the train store. I'm sorry I tasked you with a completely unfair responsibility and then had the audacity to blame you when you didn't live up to my impossible expectations. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. If every tear that I have cried tonight while reliving this dreadful afternoon was an apology, you'd have heard at least 1,000 "I'm sorry's."
Will you ever forgive me?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
**Update**
I went back to the library today (without Ben) to get the books that were left behind the day before and also to ask the staff if anyone had found the missing cash. Not surprisingly, it hadn't been turned in, but they offered to call me if it was found (though I knew there was hardly any chance of this happening). I thanked the staff and directed my attention to finding books on effective discipline for preschoolers (as Oprah says, "To know better is to do better!") I headed home, eager to surprise Benjamin with the Thomas book he so desperately wanted. Sure enough, he was thrilled when he saw what I had for him and we read the book together before he went down for his nap (without a fight this time, too!).
As I started in on my own books, the phone rang. It was the library. Someone had found my money on a bookshelf and turned it in. I was floored. I absolutely could not believe it. Thrilled, I told them I'd be there later that afternoon to pick it up. After Ben woke up from his nap, I shared the good news and told him that after we stopped at the library, I would take him to the train store. Off we went and I even got him that hamburger afterwards, all like I had planned the day before.
I still feel terrible about what transpired yesterday. Though one day I may forgive myself, I cannot and will not forget the way I lost my temper and took my anger out on my son, because I never want to stop trying to be a better mother. I firmly believe that we learn best from our mistakes and I am absolutely determined to find the lessons in that terribly sad afternoon. I refuse to let all those tears be for naught...mine or Benjamin's.
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