Today marks my 5th Mother's Day. I remember how surreally happy I felt on my first Mother's Day...I also remember how at ease I felt being a mummy then.
Ironically, half a decade into motherhood, I'm finding that I'm getting increasingly less certain of my mummy skills.
In the past few months or so, I find that I've been nagging and scolding the children, especially Pup, much more than in the past. I've been losing my patience with Pup almost on a daily basis; I've been raising my voice at him and speaking to him negatively; I've also whacked him, often out of anger (and I know it is totally wrong, because I've lost control...).
Today, Pup proudly presented me with the many Mother's Day presents that he painstakingly made for me in school. I was touched...I silently promised myself that no matter what, today I'llI keep my cool with him, just for the day. I also enlisted Pup to help me out on this mission. All he needed to do was to 'behave'.
As the day wore on, my 'cool' wore out. I finally lost it at Fox when Pup persisted on chasing the sister around the shop, fighting her with the shop's clothes hangers, egging her to run through the racks of clothes and refusing to listen to the Daddy's repeated request for him to 'stop'. I scolded. The Daddy gave him a time out. Pup stood at the entrance of the shop, and defiantly wiped off a tear that threatened to roll down his cheeks. My heart tightened but I hardened it. He needed that, I told myself.
Back home, I lost my cool again when I saw Pup, who said he wanted to try to nap, attempting to rouse LQ who was in deep sleep. While I did not scold him, I gave him my coldest and most admonishing stare. He avoided my stare by burying his head in the pillow.
The rest of Mother's Day went pretty ok until bed time. Pup demanded that I must sleep beside him instead of LQ and was very unhappy when the sister rolled onto his bed as it was cooler there (he was sleeping on our bed so it shouldn't have mattered...). He then tried to nudge the sister out of his bed. That was the last straw. I stood up and left the room. From the kitchen, I could hear his loud sobbing and pleading for someone to sleep with him, in the midst of all these was the Daddy's frustrated voice asking him to calm down. It was way past the two kids' bed time...
I went back to the room, yet again scolded Pup, but lay down beside him so that he could fall asleep faster. While his sobs subsided and his breathing evened out to a soft snore, I found mysel crying in the dark. What have I done? What happened to positive parenting? What happened to being the kids' best friend? How did I end up becoming the kind of mother that I hate most...?
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