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23.3.17

I'm Failing My Children

I'm failing my children.
Not in every area, there are some things I do right but there are other things that I am doing wrong.

I almost took Harry to the doctor last week about his behaviour. When it came to it I couldn't go, simply because I couldn't sit there and say that sometimes his tantrums and melt downs aren't because of me. Because they are.
I am not the best mum I can be. I am lazy and I get snappy too easy. And I fail at not putting them first often enough.

Harry is off school ill today. It resulted in me having a panic attack and having spent the rest of the morning exhausted and wanting to curl up and cry because I felt like such a failure.
A failure because I was letting work down.
I was snappy with both boys this morning. Mean. And questioned Harry's feeling poorly even though it was clear that he had a slight temperature and couldn't swallow easily because of a sore throat.
I didn't put him first. I was putting work first. Putting letting them down first. And as a result fell out with my children and sat on the sofa in tears, struggling to breathe, being comforted by a 7 year old and 5 year old.

That's not right.
My children should not need to comfort me.
I shouldn't have to apologise to them for failing them. For not putting them first.
Instead of helping Charles get ready for school and making sure Harry was ok I frantically tried to work out a way around the work issue. A voice in my head was telling me to calm down. To focus on my family and not on something where there should be a process in place in case I am ill or unable to get to work for whatever reason.

These two children who rely on me. Who I have to keep alive and well were not my priority and I feel ashamed of that.
I did the school run with sunglasses on to hide my puffy eyes and tears.
We got back to the car. Harry sat in the front, promising to lay on my back when we got home and to help me breathe. Telling me we would count to 10, just as we did a week ago when again he helped count me down during a panic attack.

I filled with anger, at myself.
Why is my 5 year old promising to look after me? Why is he the one comforting me and taking charge when I am the parent?
I am the one who should be doing that for him.

And the feeling of failure came in strong. And I realised that again, as usual, my priorities were wrong.
I'd told Charles, as we walked into school, to stop snapping at me and talking to me without respect, but thinking about it, he is simply mirroring how I am talking to him.
How Harry's short fuse can simply be down to me. How I take the smallest thing out on them.
How I let everything else take over and overshadow any time with them.

They tell me I'm the best mummy, but I am far from it.
I am failing my children.