Confessions of a worn out mama

Yesterday was a rough day.

After a weekend of lots of attention from lots of people Jeremiah was left with just me to keep him entertained. A morning trip to the library was fun, but tiring as the only thing he wanted to do was pick out a Veggie Tales movie and go home. I was determined we would find some books for him and a few for me too. We finally made it home with an armload of new books (and of course the movie).

The rest of the day went fine until the evening. Aaron was at class. Jeremiah and I were playing in his room. Once it was bath time everything fell apart. Well, Jeremiah fell apart. No part of bath and bed time was accomplished without tears, foot stomping, and lots of "no!." After an hour of battling I was at the end of my rope. I did the ultimate no, no. I grabbed Jeremiah by the arm, yelled at him to stop crying, and then gave him a swift swat on the rear.

He looked at me with confusion and some fear in his eyes before dissolving into tears and screams again.

It was not pretty.

I held him while he ranted and finally he heard my singing through his tears and calmed down enough to let me cuddle him. At that moment we heard Aaron's motorcycle pull up in the yard. And just like that all was rainbows and roses again. A big smile broke on Jeremiah's face, "papa!?" he exclaimed.

Papa came in and finished bedtime.

I went into my room and cried.

There are just some days when I wonder if I should even be a mom. Especially these days when I am tired and worn thin.