Let me tell you about one of my bad days. I had recently found out I was pregnant with Ellie. The girls and I went to my mother's work to say hi. Both Kylie and Lila insisted on bringing their stuffed ducks squeakers and pac pac with them. So we head in to the hospital and up to the third floor. Everything was going fine and both girls were happy. We spent a little bit of time saying hi and visiting with their mamaw. It was time to take the girls back to the car and let my mom get back to work. So my mother filled a cup up with the grapes that the girls were snacking on, so we could take them to go with us. She then ask the girls if they wanted a popsicle to take with them. Um?! Of course they wanted a popsicle, no brainer. At this point they could no longer hold their stuffed ducks or their delicious grapes. So I'm forced to carry the diaper bag, two stuffed animals, and a cup of grapes. We say bye and head down the elevator. Two happy little girls with their popsicles and one mommy with her hands full of all their crap. We walk up to the automatic doors and I reach for Lila's hand. She completely freaks out and starts running away from me screaming "MINE!!!" I explain I just want her hand not her popsicle. I reach for her hand again and she rippes her hand away from me throwing her popsicle across the parking lot. Her life was over! Nothing was going to make this right. We were in total breakdown mode in the middle of the parking lot of a hospital. Kylie concerned about her little sister begins to ask a million questions. "What happened?" "Why is she crying?" "What did you do?" "Why did she drop her Popsicle?" For goodness sakes child stop talking and walk. I tell Lila to get up, of course she wouldn't. I ask Kylie to carry her stuff, of course that was a stupid question. So I bend over to grab Lila. Grapes pour out of the open cup in my hand. The diaper bag falls off my shoulder and I drop one of the stuffed ducks. I pick up Lila from around the waist. She is kicking and screaming. I throw the diaper back over my shoulder and pick up the stupid freaking stuffed duck that they couldn't live without. Kylie is complaining about all the grapes I dropped. I'm yelling "for the love of God, can we just get to the car?!" Kylie's crying and no longer wants to walk, Lila is screaming her head off and trying to kick her way out of my arm and I'm praying out loud as I use my foot to push Kylie to get her to take each step. "Lord just let me get to the car." We finally get to the car. I throw both girls into the car and struggle to buckle them in. I then get in and put my head down on the steering wheel. All I hear from the backseat is Kylie, " um mommy?!?! Why aren't we moving?!?!" I loose my mind, "because mommy needs to pray right now!"
I thought to myself, how in the world am I going to do this? I have another on the way! What was I thinking? I'm not meant to be a mommy. I can't handle this.
But thankfully tomorrow is always a new day, a fresh start. So to the people who call me supermom, I am no supermom! I'm just a mommy trying my best. Some days I fail and some days are a total success. Most days I bearly make it to bedtime and pass out. So please don't hold yourself to this ridiculous image you painted me to be. That person does not exists. I struggle with this parenting thing just like you do. My girls don't listen to me, they don't want to eat, bed time is a struggle and I doubt myself just like you. No one is a perfect parent, God knows I'm not.
Oh and my mother called me later that night. One of her colleagues saw the whole thing in the parking lot. He went upstairs and told my mother that I looked stressed out and was struggling a bit. Perfect time to tell him "oh she pregnant!"
Bwahahaha!!! I remember that day!
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