We’ve each been there, at the end of our rope…exhausted, drained, and miserably human.
I watched a fellow mom in the cereal aisle, harshly ordering her small children around like little soldiers and my first reaction was to offer this woman a break ––to scoop up those kids and let her sleep for about three days.
Uninterrupted. Deeply. So she could refuel and rethink
I honestly wish I could have done just that.
Because what I witnessed was not who that mother truly was. Or, at least, who she was meant to be. Sure, every mom on this planet has felt aggravated. Pushed to her limit. Out of control. But there comes a point in every woman’s life when she unexpectedly realizes that how she acts becomes who she is.
And that children are mimics.
Managing, organizing, and directing a family may make us feel powerful but true and enduring influence, real leadership, is characterized by example.
Like it or not, our patterns define us.
Perhaps, Sweet Mom in the cereal aisle, we should both project ourselves into the not-so-distant future when our now small children will have children of their own. When they become “us.”
How will we feel watching them—sounding like us and acting like us?
Dear Frustrated Mom, I know you adore those little ones, and that you’d never dream of hurting them. So. Don’t. Please don’t hurt them with angry, demeaning words. I will try to do the same.
You and I are in this together, you know. So, let’s watch our words, since our words become our patterns.
And our children’s patterns, too.