Yesterday was not a good day. Not a good day at all.
I screamed when I should have been calmer.
I shushed, when I should have listened.
When little faces looked to me for strength, I threw my own tantrum.
I was unkind and grumpy and horrible to be around.
I went to bed, heartbroken. I thought I was bigger than this. I’d hoped I was past this.
Then this morning, I woke up to a chubby head sleeping on my chest. The boy’s skinny arm hugging my neck. As the sleepy sun trickled into our bedroom, I murmured honest, heartfelt apologies.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you. My loudness must have been scary, especially when you were having a hard time yourself.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t let you speak your piece. You must have been so hurt by that.”
I whispered for a few minutes to my two precious children, who needed to hear how truly sorry I was. My daughter looked at me thoughtfully and then nodded. “It’s ok Amma. But next time when you’re angry, can you please use a calm voice?” she suggested.
“Amma cannot yell. Yelling is noisy for my ears,” agreed my son. Then humming a little tune, he came in for another hug.
I messed up big time yesterday. But they found it in their hearts to forgive me. They showed me that it’s ok to be angry, as long as you can communicate it respectfully and kindly.
Yesterday I was not the best mother. Probably not even a good one.
But today, I promise to do better.
I forgive myself too.
