I'd had a string of confident days where I almost felt like I knew what I was doing, and in the bliss of those successes, I let loose my grip on the knowledge that they too must come to an end, there are always hard days on the horizon.
I forgot to breathe in and out when DS refused to sit in the buggy on the way to nursery, even as he tripped over and over and complained of needing a rest every few feet.
I did not count to ten as he fought, screamed and wrestled against me eventually putting him in the buggy mid journey.
I certainly neglected to recite a calming mantra as I watched him take off running into the lobby and down the hall of his nursery: squarely the opposite direction of where he was meant to be going.
I was a gentle parent failure this morning. I forgot about how easy it is to feel failure and turn it into shame and frustration.
This is why Mama Tribes are so important, and why being an immigrant thousands of miles from most of the people who have known you longer than three years is so taxing. Chances are, if you walk into a room post-bad morning, and you're in a bad mood, someone who doesn't know you that well will simply think you a miserable sort. They might brush you off. They don't know any better, it's not their fault.
Of course, you could easily just be mirroring your own current state of self deprecation onto these silent participants. That's the other trouble.
How nice it would be to walk into a room of history, one look at you and someone would know you needed a chat, a shoulder, an old funny story about that time you did that thing that was hilarious.
Before motherhood, before the muddle of walking through life mostly hoping you're doing the right stuff, knowing you won't really see the full result until twenty or thirty years have gone by.
On these awful mornings, most of all, I need to be reminded of the life that came before this one. Not because I crave it, but simply to remind me of the transient nature of it all. This too shall pass, et al.
I am confident that I am doing the right stuff, I am. After this blog entry, I will breathe in and out again and it will have passed. Another string of good days and successful times are on the horizon; but so are times like this. You're a little gun shy, a little hard done by. You just need an origin story to cheer you up.
That's the stuff you don't realise before you pick up all the sticks and move them well across the globe.
Still, I'm quite glad of where they're currently planted.
