Sunday, March 25, 2012

I make mistakes too.

The worst part about Oliver being so innocent is that he doesn't know that I can be wrong. He doesn't think I can make mistakes too. He doesn't realize how imperfect I am yet.

This afternoon I was trying to get him to take a nap and he threw the biggest fit I've ever seen. He hurled himself to the ground, started screaming, and refused to get up. He typically doesn't do this, but today we were both in a bad mood and he took it to the extreme. He was mad that Jared was at work on a Sunday. He was mad that he dropped half of his sandwich on the floor and the dog ate it. He was mad that he couldn't have juice, he couldn't watch TV, and he didn't get to see Grandma today.

I told him he needed to have a time out to calm down, but he didn't budge. I had to pick him up and move him into time out physically. He kicked me hard and it hurt. I was already mad and I yelled at him. Way more than I should have. I told him he was bad. I told him good kids listened and that he doesn't listen and that he is bad. I yelled at a two year old who was having a bad day.

He cried. He said, "No Mom, don't be mean. I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry, Mom." Then I cried, too.

I felt horrible. I knew I shouldn't have overreacted like that. I know that he is two. I know that two year olds are allowed to be naughty sometimes. I know that all of his problems seemed like the end of the world to him. I know that all of that stuff was important to him and that's why he was so upset.  I knew all of that but I was too mad and I said too much and it was too late. I didn't take the time to think about things from his side, and I made a mistake. It was just too late.

I apologized to him, but it only made me feel worse. I told him how sorry I was. I told him I made a mistake.  I told him that we were both upset and what I did was wrong. I said to him that sometimes I make mistakes and it's not his fault. And do you know what he said to me?

"No, Mom. I bad. I sorry."

How could I ever make him think he is bad? He isn't bad. He does bad things sometimes but he isn't bad. I can't stand that after all of this, he still thinks that he was the only one in the wrong. While I was trying to explain to him, he kept trying to assure me that he will be good. He kept telling me that he was sorry. He kept telling me that it was going to be alright. He blamed himself for everything, and it killed me.

I'm in charge of his life and and I'm supposed to make him know that he has value and that he is good and worthy of every good thing. And today I screwed that up. I feel like the worst person in the world.

When I finally took him downstairs and tucked him into bed, he quietly laid down his head and let me cover him with his blankets. I asked him if he wanted a story or a song, special treats usually reserved for night time.

He said no, it's nap time now and turned his back on me to sleep.

I want him to understand that he is good, even if somebody tries to say he's not. Especially if somebody tries to say he's not. It just makes me so mad that I have to protect him from myself now, too. It's a horrible thing to know that you've hurt your own child.

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