Yesterday was a harrowing day. The kids had one event after another all day and my store was crazy busy. Not crazy busy with orders but busy with the usual little questions and problems and 3 incredibly unreasonable customers. I normally feel like 99% of the world is basically decent and 1% stink, but last night I felt like the reverse percentages were more accurate.
Right before bedtime(10:30 p.m. because we went to Stefan’s very cool play and had cake and ice cream afterwards) I read yet another nasty email from a lady who blames me for the war, global warming and most especially the fact that she can’t find the package that was delivered to her doorstep last Saturday(I felt like George Bush).
Seething from her injustice, I let all the ordinary bedtime stuff get to me, “I can’t find my jammies.” “Where’s my book?” “He kicked me!” I ended up yelling, swearing, slamming doors and going downstairs w/o kissing anyone goodnight.
Erik came down a bit later and gave me the look that needs no words. I feel so ashamed. Really, what is wrong with me? Problems will come and go but my kids deserve to be treated with kindness. Why am I yelling at them when the source of the problem is half a continent away?
Quite pathetically, I cried myself into a fitful sleep. But not over the dishonest strangers– I’m going to chalk those up to theft and move on– I cried for that fact that when the going gets tough, when the stress piles on, I fall apart. I love my kids; I love my husband; my heart aches when I hurt them.
In the middle of the night, Miss Mary slipped into our bedroom. As she climbed into bed with me she said, “I’m sorry. I still love you.” And finally, I slept soundly.