I describe myself as a 50/50 patientee.

Meaning : it completely depends on the situation at hand to whether or not I’m patient.

Lately, I’ve been feeling like The Worst Mother In The Entire Universe Of Mothers.

FoH, my beautiful FoH is growing up. I see it on his face, the way he is learning and soaking in and soaking up every.single.word — all the damn things said and all the damn things unsaid that hang in the air that you feel.

I’m not pleased to admit this and I am certainly embarrassed to but here goes — no judging please!

I’ve been on the verge of losing it about ten times a day on him.

This morning, he spilled his chocolate milk. Might I add it was one of the most glorious spills I’ve ever seen. I’m still finding chocolate milk — four hours later.

My initial reaction was to say a couple very bad words and I was tempted to yell at him. You know, something along the lines of, what were you doing! Stop that! Be more CAREFUL!

Except he immediately started to cry after my couple bad words were said and thankfully that snapped me out of it, not before some serious mom guilt though.

I’ve got to get myself in check. I’ve got to remember, the kid is just three. Three! Of course there will be spills and messes and whatnots. It’s just how it is.

And I don’t want him to have a complex when he does mess up. I don’t want his little heart rate to increase and have him be a walking paranoid mess over possible messing up.

I tell ya, there is nothing more powerful than having a little person around you 24/7 to point out what it is you need to be working on.

So, FoH: I promise to do better. I promise that I will attempt to be as self aware as possible and to be the best version of myself for you.

In the meantime, please continue to love me and forgive me. We get to do life together, so that means we have a whole lifetime of loving and forgiving and more love and lots more forgiving ahead of us.

Let’s have the best damn possible time together that we can. With lots of chocolate milk. Spills and all, baby.