If there were a swamp of expressive defiant, individuality full of over exaggerated dramatic two year old behavior, I'd be finding myself sludging through the thick of it. All the while, desperately hopeful to see that one tree limb that is hanging a little lower than the others, offering me it's help.
When I did find what looks to be an sympathetic branch, with it's assistance, I'd pull myself out of this muck, express my relief, while making a note to give myself a little more credit on the frontier of parenting, only to be interrupted by the sudden slipperiness of the limb's grip and the unforgiving shaking by it's angry trunk, dropping me into the thick brush of the constant boundary testing forrest with it's 8 year old growth.
It's a tiresome journey. Steadily trudging, moving forward, unwillingness to stop, because stopping sets you back. Stopping only delays your process. Forward is the only option. I wish I could say I didn't stop. To be able to tell you, my strength is unwavered, while my consistent persistence through the swamp of defiance and brush of repetitive testing of boundaries. But, sometimes my foot feels too heavy, the last step sinking a bit deeper, cementing me in my exhausted efforts. Done. Fail.
On this day, I fail… in a major way. Situations that tomorrow will be handled in an effective calm manner, are scattered, disorganized, and over reacted…. dramatic if you will.
Voice booming, hands flaring, and unrealistic threats made. Tears cried, doors slammed, and tempers fuming. Fits thrown, frustrations displayed in ways only a 2 year old can, and time outs awarded.
While doing what one would naturally do in a situation like this, I compared my failure to the successes of my friend's parenting. Finding no comfort or grounds for sturdier structure for future worn down days. The day's end, this is an overlooked miracle in itself, because the next morning, slates are wiped clean, tears are dried, and energy restored. A fresh day with no failures and another day's lessons learned.
If you read the words and glance at the pictures at the same speed that I do, it's now, the music's change will accompany the tempo, and spirits are regained, lasting. Because it's so important that the day of Fail is recognized, grown from, and once in awhile revisited. Because the clambering through the days that are wanted to be forgotten, the disregarded days of drear, make the days on the extreme flip side shine so bright…
Like preparing for the Super Bowl with football appropriate food, face painting, and your favorite team's colors paraded…
(channeling Popeye apparently)
And having some life loving friends, who see the humor in preparing for a Super Bowl as if the Patriots were playing, and posing for a picture to capture our stunned dissappointment… Seriously? Amazing!
For that, I will trudge on through the mud, with the occasional rest on the days that it feels more thick than others, with my hands busily batting away the fullness of the brush, knowing there will soon be a clearing… Because the journey throw The Day of Fail is so worth the Success' reward.