Old Yell-er

My throat is sore and my voice hoarse.  From shouting. At my boys.

The truth is that I am totally ashamed of this.  I feel as if I start each day with renewed resolve to handle each challenge deftly and with grace; however, barely an hour into our morning (usually starting with my grumpy riser), things spiral quickly into Tantrum City.  By nap time – theirs and now, mine – I am exhausted from the sheer will used to try and put out each fire (thankfully, just figurative) to get the boys back on track.

So today, as I sat wallowing in self-pity about my lack of proper parenting skills, I saw a news story that brought everything into perspective.

It’s been over 2 years since Madeleine McCann went missing from the Portuguese resort she was staying at with her parents and two young siblings.  She was only 3 years old at the time.  Though forgotten news to most, her parents have continued the search with private investigators, who are following up a new “strong” lead that would take them to Australia.  What strikes me most is the undying belief that her parents have that they must search until being given concrete evidence that there is no hope of finding her alive and well.  They remain undaunted by statistics, nay saying, dwindling leads and, most of all, time.  

Thinking now about my young boys sleeping safely in their beds, I am so thankful that they are here with me – rambunctious, stubborn, argumentative, combative, joyful, inquisitive, creative and charming.  But here.

So whilst I still need to work on my parenting repertoire, I am reminded that I have the benefit of practicing with my boys; that after nap time I’ll get another shot at laughing with my boys and watching them grow.