The bitch in the mirror

I'd been preparing Jonah for more than a week, telling him that when this bag of diapers ran out there'd be no more diapers and he'd wear undies like a big boy. So this morning (aided by hiding the last dozen diapers in the closet) the bag was empty, we picked out some undies from the drawer, we talked about where pee-pee goes (in the potty mama). I put him on the potty every 30-40 minutes. By noon we'd gone through 5 pairs of undies and I'd had to wash the laundry room floor and the kitchen floor. By 6 we were on pair number 9 and I'd washed the diningroom floor and the bathroom floor (from when he'd jumped off the potty, announced he didn't need to pee then promptly peed all over the bathroom floor).

After bath he and Katie, damp and wrapped in towels, were jumping on my bed. They managed to pull all of the sheets and blankets off, so I frustratedly shooed them away and was remaking the bed when Jonah dropped his towel and peed all over my comforter.

I lost it.

I screamed STOP, I grabbed him and ran him to the bathroom, depositing him on the potty. I yelled at him to stay there, I stormed away cursing and stomping. I continued cursing and yelling while I blotted pee out of the carpet and threw the comforter into the laundry room, all the while Jonah stayed on the potty wailing and crying and probably scared half to death.

I came back to take him off the potty and put a diaper on him. He was trying to hug me, and I was a cold bitch. I dressed him in his jammies and he padded off downstairs. He fell asleep on the rec room couch a few minutes later.

By then I'd calmed the hell down. I carried him, snuggled in my arms, up to bed, and laid with him awhile, he cuddling half asleep against me.

I'm so ashamed. I failed him utterly and completely tonight. I not only freaked out over something that's completely not his fault, I shunned him when he needed me most. I have become my mother, withholding affection as a tool to get what I want. I sicken myself.

And for what? Because I'm too weak to stand up to my mother and to my inlaws when they sneer and say "he's 3 years old, he should be potty trained by now". I'm forcing someone else's timeline on Jonah, because I'm not confident enough to tell them he'll be trained when HE'S ready. Because I'm scared.

He needs me to be strong enough to follow my own road, and to let him take the lead.

For now I think we'll go back to diapers, and pray that he forgets the raging bitch who ignored his needs. Pray that I can be the mother he deserves.