Mean Mommy

It's official. I'm a mean mom.  I've known I'm mean - Wesley has told me on many occasions how mean I am, but yesterday Ryan joined the battle cry.

What did I do that was so mean?

I guess it started with waking Ryan up for school. He was cranky which tends to make cranky. I made him get up and get dressed. He told me I was mean. Fine, I can handle being mean.

We had a big blowup at breakfast. I wanted him to put his shoes on and then sit down to eat instead of messing around. Ryan gave me a hard time. I insisted. He yelled, "I hate you!"

Wow. My four-year-old told me hated me. That was the first time he has said those words to me. I know it won't be the last, but it still hurt. A lot.  

Things did not improve on the way to drop off today. Ryan wanted the iPad and I told him that his behavior was not good enough to the iPad.  His response,"Why are you always so freakishly mean!?"

Okay, so I am not just mean, I'm freakishly mean. Wonderful.

So I went to work feeling about an inch tall. That was quickly reduced to half an inch after I realized I dropped the ball on something I could have sworn I had already completed. Not a great morning for me.

But apparently Ryan forgave me for being so mean. Later in the afternoon he curled up with me on the couch, rested his head on his shoulder and said, "I don't hate you anymore." 

I just hope he knows that no matter what, I could never hate him.