The other day, I lost my patience. I shouldn't have and I'm not proud of it. There really is no excuse for it, but I reached my breaking point and it all came pouring out in the form of a scream, throwing a plate full of food in the sink and a puddle of tears. I've been beating myself up about it ever since it happened.
As a mom, there is a lot of pressure to do everything and to do it well without losing the smile on your face. As the mother of a little one who has even greater needs, that pressure intensifies because the more that a child requires, the bigger the smile must be, the bar for perfection raises, and the patience that goes along with it increases. We are constantly walking on a very thin tightrope. At the end of the day, our babies are doing their very best (even on bad days) and they need our love and support always, but getting to the end of the day as happy beings can sometimes take more work.
My son is a happy, energetic, spunky, funny, playful, and amazing little creature who has had to work very hard and overcome a lot in his almost 17-month life. One of his biggest hurdles has been developmental milestones, which is why he attends multiple therapy sessions each week. He has been progressing at his own pace, which is amazing, and doctors now have him officially at the 9-month mark! Most recently, he has started eating real food - graduating from the purees that he started with just a couple of months ago to chopped foods. Each day is work with a regimen and tough schedule, but each day is also progress, and I try my hardest to make it as fun as possible. Which leads me to my meltdown...
It was breakfast time: 8am. After a few very successful days, I decided to make some select favorites for a weekend treat: waffles and syrup with strawberries and orange juice in a sippy cup. We had just tried mini waffles the day before in therapy and he loved them. My happy boy sat in his highchair while I made breakfast and danced to Sesame Street songs playing in the background. I plated his meal and sat down at the table next to him so that we could eat together. He then clamped his mouth shut, refusing his breakfast. I managed to get a small piece of waffle in and he gagged on it and threw it up. I moved to the strawberry and he pushed the fork away. He started screaming and banging his head against the back of the seat. Lastly, he took his cup and threw it on the ground.
In frustration, I grabbed the plate from his tray and threw it in the sink from across the room, I screamed, and then broke down into tears. I wasn’t angry that he wasted food. I wasn’t mad that he was being a cranky toddler. I was upset that we had been working so hard towards this goal and he had been doing so well, and now there was a regression. We were taking steps backwards and it pushed me over the edge. Had I not been doing my job as a mom? Was this all my fault? Mentally, I couldn’t handle it. I reached my breaking point.
I took a few deep breaths and tried to put things into perspective. It wasn’t worth losing my mind over. There’s always tomorrow. Things will progress in their own time at their own pace. Everyone is entitled to bad days, especially little people who can’t express themselves througb words. I kissed his forehead, said mommy was so sorry, and offered him a graham cracker. He refused that, too, but I took another deep breath and moved on.
I lost my cool and I shouldn’t have, but there’s always tomorrow.
As a mom, there is a lot of pressure to do everything and to do it well without losing the smile on your face. As the mother of a little one who has even greater needs, that pressure intensifies because the more that a child requires, the bigger the smile must be, the bar for perfection raises, and the patience that goes along with it increases. We are constantly walking on a very thin tightrope. At the end of the day, our babies are doing their very best (even on bad days) and they need our love and support always, but getting to the end of the day as happy beings can sometimes take more work.
My son is a happy, energetic, spunky, funny, playful, and amazing little creature who has had to work very hard and overcome a lot in his almost 17-month life. One of his biggest hurdles has been developmental milestones, which is why he attends multiple therapy sessions each week. He has been progressing at his own pace, which is amazing, and doctors now have him officially at the 9-month mark! Most recently, he has started eating real food - graduating from the purees that he started with just a couple of months ago to chopped foods. Each day is work with a regimen and tough schedule, but each day is also progress, and I try my hardest to make it as fun as possible. Which leads me to my meltdown...
It was breakfast time: 8am. After a few very successful days, I decided to make some select favorites for a weekend treat: waffles and syrup with strawberries and orange juice in a sippy cup. We had just tried mini waffles the day before in therapy and he loved them. My happy boy sat in his highchair while I made breakfast and danced to Sesame Street songs playing in the background. I plated his meal and sat down at the table next to him so that we could eat together. He then clamped his mouth shut, refusing his breakfast. I managed to get a small piece of waffle in and he gagged on it and threw it up. I moved to the strawberry and he pushed the fork away. He started screaming and banging his head against the back of the seat. Lastly, he took his cup and threw it on the ground.
In frustration, I grabbed the plate from his tray and threw it in the sink from across the room, I screamed, and then broke down into tears. I wasn’t angry that he wasted food. I wasn’t mad that he was being a cranky toddler. I was upset that we had been working so hard towards this goal and he had been doing so well, and now there was a regression. We were taking steps backwards and it pushed me over the edge. Had I not been doing my job as a mom? Was this all my fault? Mentally, I couldn’t handle it. I reached my breaking point.
I took a few deep breaths and tried to put things into perspective. It wasn’t worth losing my mind over. There’s always tomorrow. Things will progress in their own time at their own pace. Everyone is entitled to bad days, especially little people who can’t express themselves througb words. I kissed his forehead, said mommy was so sorry, and offered him a graham cracker. He refused that, too, but I took another deep breath and moved on.
I lost my cool and I shouldn’t have, but there’s always tomorrow.
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