For some reason my patience often wears thin at bathtime. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m tired and it’s the end of the day, the hot steamy room, my wet socks, their yelling … or all of the above. But bathtime is when I’m likely to lose my temper.
And I hate that about myself. Truly I do.
I shout, or I shampoo the girls heads with a little more vigour, or I sigh and collapse on our bed and stick my nose in a book to escape it all for a few minutes. Man. I’m so pathetic.
They weren’t listening to me and not doing whatever it is I asked them to do. They were busy yelling and splashing, and I put a stop to it because it was giving me a headache.
There was silence for a moment.
“Did you have a bad day today mumma?” the question came from Emma, who was suddenly looking very solemn and concerned. Concerned! I know why she was asking, because I’d been a big grouch.
“Well, it was a busy day. Daddy was home sick today and I am worried about him, and I have a lot of work to do and I’m stressing about that…” I started to give her a list. A list for chrissake! It spilled out of my mouth, and as it did I heard those words reverberate across the bathroom tile and come back to me. It was as if someone else was talking. And it sounded ridiculous. Everything I had mentioned was just an excuse. I snapped at you because I have a pile of work to do. I didn’t say it that way but that’s what I was thinking. How awful is that? I felt ashamed of myself. Really ashamed. I had no legitimate reason to lose my temper and shout at the girls.
I apologized, switched gears, and pushed the headache and fatigue aside and tried harder to see things from their perspective. It worked. We read a story. Said goodnight. And I went for a walk in the cool crisp night.
Today I resolve to be better.
