I really try to be a good mom.
My son often tests that.
Yesterday was more of the same. Ben wanted to go outside so I bundled both of us up, grabbed the dog's leash and off we went. We got close to a mile away from home when Ben jumped out of the stroller to walk. Of course, he wanted not just to walk but also to push the stroller with one hand and hold the dog's leash with the other hand. Let me just say that the cops have come to our house not once but twice about Ozzie. Allowing a not-even-two-year-old walk him by himself is not a good idea. So my son and I undergo a battle of the wills, which finally, after much effort and testing of my patience, is resolved with him sitting back in the stroller. Then when we finally return home, he freaks out again. Apparently a two mile walk in 20 degree weather is not far enough for my son. He screams, legs kicking, as I literally tuck him under my arm to carry him back into the house. At which point, he stands at the garage door screaming for another 15 minutes about how he wants to go back outside. Pleading with me.
I tried to rationalize with him, told him it was cold out and we spent enough time outside.
I tried to distract him. "Hey, Benji, do you want a snack?"
I told him I was going upstairs to change my clothes, asked him if he wanted to come.
He just wanted to stand there screaming.
So I let him.
For 15 minutes.
Until he finally realized we were not going back outside and started to play with his toys instead.
When your daughter dies inside of you and you don't even know it and your son throws temper-tantrums that last for 15 minutes at a time and you are so deep into your grief that you're not really present, it's really hard to feel like a good mom.
It's actually quite easy to feel like an incredibly shitty mom.