I've been working a lot this season and have had little time, energy or focus to write. I am not alone or different from anyone else. We all have too many distractions. I've been working on a writing for about a month and as dear as it is to my heart, I just can't seem to get to it. Tonight I am sitting here after a good weekend spent with family and friends. I wasnt' called to work and usually, while it means a smaller paycheck it also means I am more relaxed and at peace with myself.
And for the most part this is true. Saturday was a day out with the boys. We ran some errands, went to lunch and then we went hiking. The boys behaved fairly well and and was fun. Sunday was spent at church and lazing around the tele. We ended the weekend with a party at church. Dinner, horse drawn surrey and Christmas caroling; dessert, craft time and an argument. .
All three boys were acting out at the church and we decided it was time to head for home. Austin flipped and started kicking at me. I lost my temper right there in front of everyone. The ride home was no better. I yelled at my loudest until finally the boys remained silent. They submitted and went to bed without a word.
I feel guilty. I want my children to have good memories of growing up. I want them to look back on their childhood, as I do mine, and know the love not the anger of an overly tired mom. I remember so much good in my childhood. I remember the not-so good times too, but they are few and never without love and understanding. But with my children, I feel like a monster. There was an episode of "The Simpsons" where Marge blew her top and a Godzilla like face was screaming at the kids. That's me. What a horrible comparison. I don't want to be Marge Simpson on a good day. But that's the reality... I have three Bart Simpsons.