Yes, after listening to his teacher read Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Isaac said:
"It makes me grumpy when...mom yells at me."
While I'm glad to see Isaac doing a great job of connecting to his teacher's classroom read-aloud, I'm sure happy the first-graders didn't go much further into analyzing this Christmas classic because I'm sure Isaac might have to come to the conclusion that I am, indeed, the Grinch.
OK, maybe not, but I can certainly kiss the 2013 Mom of the Year Award goodbye.
Not that I was ever in the running anyway.
I'd like to say I never yelled at my kids before all this.
But that would be a lie.
Now it just seems the emotions are right there, fully exposed.
The Good. The bad. And, unfortunately, the ugly.
And on this particular day, with the school bus idling outside our house and chaos ensuing inside our house, Isaac got the how-many-times-do-I-have-to-tell-you-to-put-your-hat-and-your-gloves-in-the-same-spot-so-you-can-find-them-in-the-morning ugly.
This was followed by a dramatic unzipping of the backpack to reveal the missing gloves, so all was well, but ugly nonetheless.
I spend a great deal of the day keeping the emotions in check and holding it all together, all the while lugging around what feels like a 50-pound weight. This weight - this big ball of grief - it doesn't go away, and by the time I go home, I am spent.
And my family gets the worst of me.
It's not fair.
It's just the way that it is.
I am hurting.
We are hurting.
And while my little guy may not carry the weight all day long like I do, he does feel it.
Just look at the other half of that picture.
|It makes me feel happy when Addie is back.|
I can't bring Addie back (oh how I wish that I could), but I can try to give more of my best.