Confessions of an Angry Mom

It happened again.

As I laid in bed, I reflected over the day’s events. Instead of them bringing a smile to my face, I just felt defeated and a bit ashamed.

My older girls woke up excited to see me and start their day. I greeted them by scolding them for coming into our bedroom too loudly because they could wake their baby sister. Their smiles turned to frowns as they slouched downstairs. Taking a deep breath, I got out of bed and slowly made my way there.

I grumpily made their breakfast while they chatted happily (apparently they had already forgiven me for my less-than-enthusiastic greeting earlier) about what they were looking forward to. They tried engaging with me, but I gave short and simple answers. I just didn’t want to talk. That dark cloud was still looming over my head. 

After finishing breakfast, my oldest got out her art stuff. After about 20 minutes, she gave me a drawing and also a huge hug, telling me how much she loves me. I look at the picture: a colorful heart with the writing, “Der Mommy, I love u so much” (Dear Mommy, I love you so much).

Cue the waterworks and massive guilt trip!

I quickly grabbed her and my other daughter in a tight hug. I apologized for snapping at them and told them how much I loved them.

As much as I wish this was the only time something like this happened, it’s not. In fact, it was made crystal clear how much I must get upset when my six-year-old told me, “Mommy, we don’t like when you’re mad all the time.”

Feeling like a failure? Check!

Wondering if my children will grow up hating me? You better believe it.

Praying something can change, so they don’t grow up and only remember me as an angry mom?  Every. Single. Day.

Prior to having kids, I don’t remember being upset all the time. In fact, I would say I was a pretty happy and optimistic person.  Since kids, however, my anger has been an increasing problem. These days, my fuse is practically non-existent. Any little thing can set it off, and it’s not always big, red-in-the-face anger.

Kids taking too long to get ready? I can hear my voice rise in irritation as I try to get them to move faster.

Sisters fighting over the blue cup? I snap and yell that no one is getting the blue cup for a long time.

 A drink gets spilled? I angrily question why they weren’t paying attention.

Without fail, at the end of the day, I feel ashamed of myself. I explain to my girls that I know that I get mad easily, and it is something that I am working on. We snuggle extra hard, and I tell them how much I love them, and that even when I’m upset, that doesn’t change the fact that I love them. 

But love is a verb.  I need to show them how much I love them, and being in a constant state of anger isn’t doing that. The good thing is that my children are forgiving, and that tomorrow is another chance to try my best. My children deserve it.