Today I yelled at Caleb because he had asked to have a snack one too many times. It was before dinner, he'd already had a snack. But Caleb is like a life insurance salesman. He just will. not. take. no. for. an. answer. Finally, it was like he had inadvertently hit the hidden lever that let out the leviathan within, and I don't know what came over me, but when I roared like a gorilla and yelled at him saying he would never, never, never have a snack on this side of the great divide, there was smoke curling up from out of my nostrils.
I apologized. I was wrong. I should not have lost my temper that way, but I did and I know I can't get that moment back. I also know it will be effective. I will only have to say Caleb, do not ask me again and he will remember the time I yelled at him and he won't ask. But kids are smart. They learn that what works on them will work on others and so I'll see my own actions, mirrored to a scary perfection within my son, he will probably do the same to Elise when she, again, goes to play with his castle.
*Sigh.* This is not the kind of mother I want to be. I want to be the kind of mom who takes my kid to the zoo to see the gorilla, not becomes one, not turns my kid into one. But sometimes I think, if I run my head through the sheetrock on that wall that I've been meaning to hang a picture on, the insulation will keep me from having to listen to Elise, who has saran wrapped her self to my legs and is crying because it is 5:00 and I am cooking dinner and trying to watch the news and it is her time to do this. Like it is her time to take a nap or have a snack or go to the gym.
And with that hole there, I will be more motivated to get that picture hung.