Imperfect mother I farted my tick!

Like you, I'm a parent. I'm a mother of two. Although I am a parenting coach and have knowledge of child development, discipline tools, behavioural strategies, the fact remains that at the base, I am a human being who has his ups and downs, his good bad days.

Yesterday, I freaked out! I couldn't take it anymore. The idea of having the responsibility of two children that I carried, whom I love above all else and who had suddenly become two little monsters, repulsed me. But what had gone through my head! Why did you have two children? Why is it so asking! Can I have peace? No, of course not!

The "Mom!!! Bibou hit me", followed by an "Outch, Kakou outch", the crying, the crises, the small cars flying away, the slamming doors were taking place less than 5 minutes apart. I was out of control. But what an idiot was I to think that children are candy. What carefree was I to believe that mine wouldn't be the little slices of bacon that undulate on the floor of department stores?!

Back to reality. The earth calls Karine! For a moment, I had forgotten their own nature. They're ENFANTS! These behaviours are no strangers to their development. My mandate as a parent is to accompany them as best as possible to draw on their resources to find an alternative to their behaviors that I find (and who am I to affirm in absolute terms) unacceptable. And if, by tapping into their own resources, they do not find the alternative, it is MY responsibility to increase their resources.

Well, well the theory, but in practice, the fact remains that I farted my tick. I found myself in the middle of the bathroom floor crying as the singpleure who had just flooded the tiles with the help of my two frogs. It was too much for Mom today. I need air, I need a break. I need to pull myself together. Everyone in his room (myself included) and secluded for 5 minutes before making a blunder or saying things I wouldn't want. I am against isolation, but all the beautiful principles and beautiful theories also have, as do the rules, one day or another need to be broken to confirm it.

Phew! I've rallied. The children have calmed down (a little). We can sit down and take stock of what has just happened. I explain to them how I saw things, they tell me from their point of view. We're exchanging. No one is right or wrong. We're just trying to come up with a strategy together to keep it from escalating next time. Bibou says that when he says he's angry like a dinosaur, it's going to mean leaving him alone and stopping annoying him. Kakou tells us that if he says he's babounous, it's better to "leave him alone" and come back on his own when he feels ready. For my part, I tell them that when I tell them that my thermometer will explode in a big boom, I expect that I will be given 5 minutes break for me to pull myself together. 5 minutes I'll mark with the oven timer.

Day to highlight in the annals of the perfect mother that I am not. At nightfall, I made a look back at our day. I took the time to tell them that I was sorry for the hard times we had today. I've had a lot of opportunities to explode. Occasions to which I have bitten to the teeth. I apologized to them because it is my responsibility, it is I the adult and it is MY mandate to guide them and I failed.

I don't blame myself, I acknowledge my responsibility, I see. I'm human after all.

Kakou smiled and said, "Mom, it was a very good day. I love you mommy."

It's true. It was a great day to grow, learn and share.

Kakou's feedback on his perception of our day reminded me of how important it is to take the time to discuss, but also how much my attitude as a parent has its impact.

Being authentic, honest and transparent brings us parents back to a more human dimension in the eyes of our darlings. This attitude allows us to come down from the podium of the Gods and to be fully imperfect parents providing, at the same time, the opportunity for our children to be less anxious and less devalued and fully imperfect child too!

Kakou was 4 years old at the time and Bibou was 2 years old.

Am I the only one who farts my check? Tell us how it goes at home.

Previous Following

0 Comments

There are no comments yet. Be the first to post one!

Leave a comment

Please note that comments must be approved before they can be posted

English