I think I’ve said it before, but in case I haven’t, let me come clean with all of you:
I am a shitty, shitty parent when I am in pain. And, sadly, I’ve been a lot of pain as of late. Blerg.
You remember how I landed myself in the hospital earlier this year after (finally) having been diagnosed with two herniated discs? Well, I’m still hurting, and every day that I wake up and have to spend an hour in bed slowly moving from side to side and carefully stretching just so that I can move without seriously injuring myself again is a day that I start in a pissed off frame of mind.
Being pissed off is not conducive to gentle, present, parenting or consensual living. It’s very hard to center yourself and find your breath when jesusmotherfuckingchrist your back hurts and bending elicits shooting pain down throughout your lower back and don’t even think about sitting because after a whole five minutes of that you’ll need to get up and move or just give in to the pain and go have a lie down.
My boy is sweet. He is gentle and generous and loving. He is also three years old, chock-full of energy, and not quite in total control of his appendages. Rationally, I know this. In the late hours of the night after Jude has gone to bed, I’m able to reflect on the day and see that, well, *I* was the one throwing the true tantrums during the day. And that if I, at 28 years old, cannot keep my cool and control my over-the-top emotions, there’s no way that my three year old son is going to be able to.
So tomorrow, if you can spare some good thoughts, please throw ‘em my way. I’d love to have a pain-free day so that I can reconnect with my little boy. He deserves so much more than I can give him even on a good day; I’m sure he would welcome a happy mama instead of the grumpy one he has been dealing with lately.