Two Year Olds and Tantrums

Trying to shower and get ready in the morning with a crying baby in a bouncy seat and a two year old tearing apart your bathroom is no fun. It's probably the reason why a clean Susan is so hard to come by these days. All I wanted was to put on some blush... blow dry my hair... maybe put on some mascara. Sam was pulling my clothes off of hangers in my closet and Lily let it be known - loudly- that she was hungry and she wanted to be held. Now.

I felt my blood begin to boil. Was I asking for so much? Could I not have just 20 minutes in the day for myself? I could feel Sam pushing against my leg as he, on tip toe, began to pull my makeup brushes from their case. I lost it. In anger, I grabbed the largest brush out of his hand and said - okay, yelled - "STOP IT!"

His little face crumpled. He cried. My heart sank. My tantrum ended his.

I picked him up and cradled him in my arms. I kissed his face and pretended to nibble his neck. In typical Sam fashion, the tears turned to giggles instantly. I caught a glimpse of us in the mirror and it hit me. I'm his mommy. I'm the only one he gets. He didn't get to choose one of those moms who manages to discipline quietly and gently... a mom who has endless patience and boundless energy. He got me. A mom whose vanities occasionally take priority... a mom who has been known to frustrate easily and publicly... a mom who isn't anywhere near the emotional maturity level she would like to be at. So, I held my little boy a while longer. I kissed him a few times more. And, in my heart, I made the promise that moms like me make,

"I'm going to do better next time."