I never cry when watching movies; I never cry when reading books; I never cry over silly, sentimental words or pictures.
I cry when I am frustrated, stressed, or in the horrible-mood moment.
Yet this morning, the tears blurred my eyes when reading certain words. Today, my feelings gushed over inside, trembled and spilled, because I’d realized a painful truth:
I have become a yeller in the last few weeks.
Handsfreemama’s blog always brings me inspiration; today, her written words brought me that truth.
Again, it isn’t because my son has done anything so terrible at all, but it is a result of pent up stress, over-commitments and tasks I mark up for myself, hoping to accomplish before each day or week is done.
Last night, I yelled him to sleep, as he lay on the bed beside me—I wanted some peace and quiet to finish up my work in the late night hours, and it had already been tiring over the weekend with a new baby.
So I raised my voice repeatedly, using words that scare and intimidate—and as he naughtily laughed them off, kicking around his blanket, I yelled even louder.
I’m ashamed to say so.
When all I really want to do is love him, I find myself also taking out the day’s stress on him, just because he is the only person in the world physically close to me right now.
If you are also one of those parents who want to love, but everyday demands get in the way, please read her post right now:
We could all use a lot more love.