I hadn't yelled all week.
I had done such an excellent job of self-talking my way out of just reacting to my three kids' misbehavior with frustration,
and I had been approaching them with
And then there was today.
I yelled a lot.
I cried, too.
I cried a lot, actually.
So did they.
Did their antics warrant my raised voice?
When you give your children
a simple direction,
or a harmless request for help,
what else is a mama to do?
A mama who feels
and way underappreciated.
Ain't no surprise that she's gonna lose it on her loved ones every now and then.
Until she doesn't anymore.
Until she gets better at controlling her emotions and not letting those of her
feeling-filled little people
wreak havoc on her own.
Until she realizes that her peace can't be taken from her if she decides to remain aligned with it
no matter what,
no matter who,
and no matter who does what.
I don't like being a mama who yells,
and that's why for the last seven years or so,
I've been working my tail off to change that fact about me.
I read how to do better.
I pray that I'll do better.
And every day, I try to do better.
Today I didn't do better.
Today I did what I always used to do.
But tomorrow I won't (hopefully).
'Cause its another day, and I'll try again.
And I’ll keep trying until I get it right.
I'm a mother on a mission,
it’s not an option.
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