Tags: Challenges, Children, Emotions, Language, Motherhood, Parenting, Relationships, Romania, Tantrums, Toys
I just got out of timeout.
Me, the mommy. In timeout.
It’s just, well, I’d had it. My children refused to clean up their bajillion toys. Again.
They whined. They screeched. They stomped.
So I did, too. I also badgered. Belittled. Said unkind things.
Why can’t you … ? How many times … ? When will you … ?
I’m sure you can fill in those blanks.
I forgot that I’m the one with patience. That I’m the one who teaches them gratefulness and responsibility and manners. That I’m their example.
After, we read stories about Mr. Gronkle and Lowly Worm. We sang You Are My Sunshine and layered the blankets in just the right order. We talked about what had happened.
I sat on the edge of their bed and told them I was sorry and I was going to sit in timeout. Because I had been mean and impatient. And that’s not how we behave in this house.
It’s over now. Their room is clean.
But my conscience isn’t.
Have you ever thrown a parent tantrum? Ever put yourself in timeout? Ever wished you could take back your own words?
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Fluffy Bunnies in Romania:
Read the tales. See the photos.
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