The dark side of motherhood...

So...as I've posted before, I love www.momaha.com. Yesterday one of the moms posted a blog online, and I thought I would share it with you all. It happens...and it's nothing to be ashamed of. We all loose our cool at one time or another. Hope you all enjoy this article.

Cat Koehler: Dark side of motherhood

People told me that being a mom was a difficult job, and I believed them. But no one told me there would be times I would feel ashamed and racked with guilt. No one told me there would be days when I would want to run away, if for no other reason than to give my kids a better chance at a normal life. No one told me.

No one told you either? Well, it's true; there is a dark side of mommyhood. It happens to every mom, and no one is safe. We all like to put on a good show of perfect mommy when others are watching (or reading), but the moments we feel our lowest as mothers get hidden in a drawer only to emerge the next time we doubt our ability as mothers.

You all read about some of these moments when I wrote about kids being difficult to break, but those were just “oops” moments and not enough to make me wonder if I am really cut out to be someone's mom.

The other night, I was exhausted after traveling for a week and my first day back at work. I was anxious to get the kids to bed so I could collapse into my bed. After getting Donovan down and arguing with Adley about bed time for an hour, I sunk into bed.

Just as I was about to drift off, I heard screaming from Adley's room. This isn't unusual – she has night terrors about once a week. I went in to make sure nothing was wrong and then returned to bed.

A few moments later, Adley began to sob. I went to comfort her, but nothing helped. She was having growing pains, so I got the Tylenol. I brought her to my room as she continued to sob. She refused to take the pain reliever. I begged, I pleaded, I threatened, and I even bribed her to take the medicine.

What did she want from me? I tried being sweet, stroking her hair and rubbing her back. I tried reasoning, “If you take the medicine, your legs will stop hurting.” I tried bribery, telling her she could sleep in my bed if she would take the medicine. I threatened to call daddy at work (I carried out the threat, but she wouldn't talk to him.) Then I tried being the disciplinarian and told her she must take the medicine or she would have to leave my room and go back to bed.

It seemed everything I tried was met with an evil stare and a “Humph!” I had enough. I was exhausted and worried that her increasingly loud cries would wake the baby. I held out the medicine and told her she had five seconds to take it or she was going back to her room.

One. I prayed she would take it and not let this go on any longer.

Two. I gave her a look and nod to let her know it was ok.

Three. For the love of sleep and sanity, please just take it!

Four. I gave her a stern look that means “I'm serious and time is almost out.

Five. “TAKE THE DAMN MEDICINE,” my mind screamed as she sat there with a curled lip and scowling eyes.

I set the medicine down and got on my knees to be at her eye level (maybe I should have prayed while I was there.) “You are going back to your room and you will do so quietly and calmly, do you understand?”

“EHHH!”

“You can go on your own or with my assistance, but you will be quiet and calm.”

Again she sat heavy as a rock, refusing to budge. I took her arm and pulled her from the bed. She resisted with all of her body weight and screamed like a banshee. I took her to her room and closed the door. She began to scream even louder – I didn't think it was possible.

At this point, I could feel my blood boiling; my heart racing in a heavy ache. I swung open the door, bent down and cupped her face in my hands. “I SAID TO SHUT UP!”

Instant regret and shame washed over me. I went out to the front porch and cried. How could I be so mean? What mother says such a horrible thing?

I wanted to run away. Instead, I walked back into my little girl's room, where she sat on the floor quietly staring at her feet. I let her see the tears streaming down my cheeks as I apologized for yelling mean words. We talked only for a minute, before I took her hand and brought her to bed with me.

She took her medicine and quickly fell asleep. I laid awake for a few hours just wondering how I allowed myself to act this way. I wasn't a mother, I was a monster.

I realized that the people we love the most hurt us the most. They know how to push our buttons and send us to the breaking point. I'm not proud of how I behaved, and I can't say it's the first or probably even the last time. All I can do is try to be the good mommy, even when my little girl has brought me to the edge.

I'll throw this in the drawer, but instead of letting it be proof of my ineptitude as a mother, I'll let it serve as a reminder that even good moms have dark moments.