I Should Be Ashamed of Myself

If you grow up in the South, I can confirm that at least once in your small life (probably adulthood too if your Grandmother is still living) you will be told, "You should be ashamed of yourself."  It is used to admonish wrongdoing and sinful ways.  It makes you feel small.  It gets the point across.  Well. 

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I am going to do my best here to portray the most horrific thing I said yesterday.  Please gather with me in the confessional. You have permission to judge me.  Throw stones.  It was that awful.  Let me set the stage.

On October 10, 2012 I scheduled Olivia's first homeschool field trip for January 31, 2013.  I have baited her with this since then.  Meaning...I have promised her there are more kids like her she just had to wait and see.  And she did.  Wait that is.  She didn't have another choice.  So, like a smart thinking mother, I put myself to bed early Wednesday night.  10:30 or so.  I wanted to be nice and rested so that the sleep deprived devil who lurks around the corner when I stay up just a few winks too late would not rear his ugly head on Thursday in the high stress environment of morning preparations, long travels in the car, and management of three kids at a train station in front of a bunch of moms I had never met. 

All was going well yesterday morning.  I was humming along getting ready when Olivia pops in at 6:30am.  We have a strict "No entering the room until 7am rule around here."  That is a story for another day.  This was not a good sign folks.  Are you with me?  She announces that Allye is also up.  Not good.  I am not ready.  The plan is falling apart and it is only 6:30.  I send her to the shower and retrieve Allye who did not want to get dressed and stared and smiled and ran away when I very clearly explained the importance of the day and that we needed to hurry up.  Nothing.  Let's just say I won that battle.  There might have been tears.

Insert stress-o-meter.  It is steadily rising toward the danger zone.

With breakfast over and the ticking clock hovering, I began to get antsy.  I started to question if we would be late.  I hate late.  With a passion.  Then it happened.  My kids thought it would be wonderful to make their own lunches.  I calmly explain that today was not the day to do that.  Twice.  Then I might have raised my voice to get the point across.  Then they might have run into the playroom and shut the doors.  All four of them, doors that is.  As I expeditiously prepared the lunches, trying to fulfill 50 + requests for each box, I hear Allye banging around in the pantry.  This is quite normal.  She rips things from the shelves.  Rolls the cans around on the floor.  Gets the stool and empties the bins.  But hey, it seemed better then screaming at my feet.  Just as everything seemed to be falling into place I heard it.  The faint sound of a candy wrapper.  I had never heard this before.  Does she get into the candy?  Yes.  Has she ever opened one?  No.  I quickly towel off my hands and dash to the closet and their she sits smiling up at me with a death grip on a candy wrapper and bright blue drool sliding from her tiny mouth onto her bright white shirt.  I screamed the "Why today?" scream while scooping her up and running to the sink.  I frantically begin wiping her shirt and emptying her mouth when I see Olivia run in and start cleaning up.  "Mom!" she screams, "It's ok, I am here now.  It will be ok Mom."  And then it happened.  As I am feverishly wiping at the blue stains on this crisp white shirt I look up at her and in the most "Life as we know it is over voice," said "No Olivia.  It is not ok.  Because the worst thing that could have happened this morning just did!"  The minute I said it I wanted to take it back.  Olivia's big blue wide eyes staring at me, helpless.  I called myself an idiot.  I gave myself a  stern talking to about the awful example I just set for my daughter and how shallow I was.  Then I told myself I should be ashamed of myself.  And I was.  For the rest of the day.  And what made it even worse?  We were ready twenty minutes early.  And I got the most beautiful pictures of my girls.  

Smiles.  

Laughter.

 Blue Stains.

Sweetness.

 Posing.

Blue Eyes.

and LOVE.

 And we rode in happiness.  Blissfulness really.  Smiling.  Singing.  And we were early.

The indoor train model.

Riding the steam engine train.

Eating lunch with new friends.

Enjoying the view.

 And we had a ball.  Because we are where we are supposed to be.

Keeping it real,

The Mama