compassion for yourself as a parent

“Mama, you are the queen of crabby and tired!” proclaimed seven-year old Etta, hands on her hips. I glared at her. Me, crabby? I was NOT crabby, dammit! So what if I had snapped at her once or twice. Ok, maybe three or four times. “Finish your snack already!” “Stop hitting your brother!” “Don’t leave your candy wrapper lying around, I’m not your maid!”

My shoulders tightened with resistance as soon as she said the words. “C’mon, Mama, you should ride one too!” We were at the Alderwood Mall in Lynnwood, contemplating the large, motorized animals for rent. Little kids zoomed around on zebras, hippos, and elephants, weaving their way around planters and bemused onlookers.