Lessons of love - a Valentine's Day story #parentingstruggle part 1

This post is slightly belated, as what I'm about to share took place on Valentine's Day, 14 February. It's taken me a while to write this, because I guess I was uncertain of how to put it down, but it's timely that I do this today.

 

Valentine's Day is a day to celebrate love - in our younger days, I'd yearned to receive flowers and gifts and cards, to feel special. Who doesn't love surprises? I remember the first Valentine's Day I spent with the husband - when we were younglings aged 17. We did the whole shebang - flowers, candlelit dinner, and even a photo by the restaurant to capture the moment for us. Off-hand, I cannot remember any other Vday celebrations that the husband and I had... though I do remember I inked KATE on me and I remember it as my Vday gift from the husband. Since then, though, I think we hadn't done anything too elaborate...

 

Anyway, this V-day came and went by with no fanfare. It was a Sunday, we had lunch with the parents and K came back from school with some stationery and a note to wish us Happy V-day.

 

Love from my baby girl

 

On that morning, K also drew up hearts for some of us - her Papa, me and her favourite yiyi + Uncle B and Nainai. The day went by uneventfully and for some reason, I was highly strung out and stressed and grumpy as the day went by. I was (over) focused on driving the kids to bed as it was a school day the next and I guess their behavious of whining and naughty antics just culminated to a very short-tempered and grumpy me. Writing of this many weeks later, I cannot even remember what it was that made me snap, but snap! I did.

When I did, I said cruel words to my daughter, words that I am ashamed of and words that I will never say to her again. Because those words were said in spite, in anger and totally unnecessary. That night, I slept fitfully and I relinquished all night duties to put them to bed. Instead, I cocooned into bed and wrapped myself in shame. Perhaps it was the moment, perhaps it was the constant nagging to myself and awareness that I had to stop snapping and yelling at the kids, perhaps it was the shame - whatever it was, it jolted me to be conscious of my outbursts. I've always been a yeller, allowing my emotions to get the better of me and I am never pleased or proud of it. But truth is, I never did anything actively to change it - I had the intent to, but I was never successful in manging it any better - until this incident.

 

I had broken the non-yelling spell though. I broke it last night with another incident. Yes I am bummed at my record being broken but I still clap my back - it had been nearly a month of non-yelling, with conscious awareness that I can control myself and my emotions before I snapped. I know there is hope and I am determined to keep trying.

 

To end off, here's sharing the sweetest thing that my son did. That V-day night, after my horrific and unkind outburst, he stood beside me as I was drying my hair in the room. He drew a picture for me.

 

"You and me, Mommy. I'm sorry."

 

He told me not to be sad, and that he loved me.

In that moment, I felt even more ashamed at my lousy behaviour, but also so grateful that my children had the big heart to forgive me and continue loving me despite my shortcomings, and short fuse. It was a valuable lesson to learn on any day, but I guess having happened on Valentine's Day made it an easy mark to remember and a coincidental lesson of unconditional love.
This love that ran both ways - my knowledge and want to become stronger and better for my children, and their innocent and whole love for their imperfect mother.

Strong lessons of love on this Valentine's Day, and one that I will always try to remember so that I can march on with purpose and become better.