Tipping the Balance Tonight

     Ruben Studdard is "Shouting to the Lord" right now on my ipod and all I can think is that I want to rail at the devil for taking this weekend away from me.  I am confused, sorrowful, and horribly, terribly wishing for a redo of this weekend.  This blog has become a way for me to chronicle our lives, the five of us.  My question is how much to make public and what do I keep private, locked in my heart, where the details of an event will fade, but certainly not my guilt or sadness over the event. (Let's face it, the only things I would want to keep private are those moments that don't put us in a great light, where we make mistakes).    As a mom, I feel so much love for my children, but also so much overriding guilt.  Guilt that I shouldn't have yelled, guilt that I should have reacted differently, guilt that I am not good enough for them, guilt that I go on yelling longer than I should at them, guilt that I am not handling them the right way, and just guilt, guilt, guilt.  This is one of those moments where the guilt just seems so overwhelming. I wanted to go to bed now, but my stomach is churning over the events of my weekend.
     I have one child who is so much more a challenge to me.  I don't know if it is because I see the things I don't like about myself in him/her or if I know he/she is making life so much harder than it needs to be.  My mother used to say I did that so I think this poor child has inherited some of this from me.  Andy has also said that this child has inherited some of the traits from the Pagleys that make life harder too!  Seems like this poor child has it stacked up against him/her before it even began for them.  My mother recently told me that when a child is harder to love that is when they need it the most.  I agree with her.  And that is where I fail.
     When one of my children is hard, they are hard for me (and Andy), not the neighbors, teachers or friends.  They are hard for us.  And every time I tell myself when they are being hard, I will show them love.  And then I don't.  I yell, I repeat the shortcomings again and again, I react poorly.  Guilt, guilt, guilt....
     So, after a weekend of yelling at this child for not following directions, for this or that, our night ended up with a conversation that went sorta like this.
Me or Andy:  Child, you have watched too much tv today.  you need to turn it off.  (This child has just come upstairs after having been made mad by another interaction with one of our other children).  You might think, why couldn't I have just let them watch television; it wouldn't have hurt.  Maybe, but he/she had watched tv all day while at home.  It was a good thing we went to church today and had a break.  He/she needed a break from that, so I thought I was doing the right thing.
Child:  What am I suppposed to do?  Be bored? (this is very sarcastically said)
Me or Andy:  You could read, build with blocks, play boardgames, ride your bike, go to your friend's house, etc. etc. etc.
Child:  You act like I've never done that before!  (with disdain and condescension)
Me or Andy:  Why do you argue everything?  You just asked what you were supposed to do and we told you.  How do you take that to mean that you have never done those things before?  Why do you make this sooo big and extreme and an argument every time we say something to you?
Child:  So, now you think I'm  _____________.
You can put your own word in there, but I just get so tired of the escalation, conflict, and refusal to take responsibility.  So, we sent this child off to bed crying.

     The only redeeming thing in this conversation (I feel) was the very end when I asked this young (they are all still young to me) child of ours if he/she had seen any acts of love on our part today.  As I asked this I wondered if those acts outweighed us yelling at him/her or if they would remember only the yelling?  When this child said no we had done NO acts of love today (of course); I told him/her to go upstairs, cry if they must, and think back through the day because I could remember at least two acts of love I had done (not to mention the cleaning, cooking, folding, arranging I had done also for ALL of my children) and not to mention how many Daddy had done.  Think back and remember.  I was hoping that even though he/she had felt their day had been full of yelling (they don't think we should have yelled at him/her 5 times in one day) that they would also see that we had given them love.

And now I can't go to sleep.