Woody's hat kept falling off and Brooks was so annoyed with this continual game of put on fall off put on fall off. He walked over to me with frustration and slung Woody right into my face. His floppy arms and hard plastic hands smacked my cheek and nose and inflicted a ridiculous amount of pain considering it was a mostly soft toy. In an attempt to keep myself from completely bullying my child by yelling at him I peeled Woody off of my face and did what any logical, 30 year old mother would do...
I threw him across the living room.
Is this real life? Did I actually just do that? Who am I? What just happened? All of these raced through my head as I watched him crash to the floor.
In an effort to control myself I completely lost control. In a moment of sheer shock of the amount of pain a character could inflict I came completely undone. As quickly as I lost control I realized my error. That little face just stared at me as if he had no idea who I was. Shock covered his own face and he couldn't take his eyes off me. I couldn't decide if it was confusion or fear but I prayed for the first. I quickly removed us both from the situation and suggested we go to the kitchen to do something. Anything to take his mind off what he had just witnessed but mostly because I needed to get myself in check for acting like Mommy Dearest.
As babes do, he went on as if nothing had happened. Until later in the day when he couldn't get that silly hat on Woody and I watched in horror as he chucked him across the room. Oh, and I thought Woody actually hitting me in the face today was the worst pain I would feel. I stood there completely overcome with shame at the reality of the quote we see plastered all over- your children will follow your example, they will be who you are so be who you want them to be. He is me. He is crazy, out of control, throw Woody across the room because you're frustrated me.
He looked at me for my reaction, I kneeled down and apologized for throwing Woody today. I told him we don't throw our toys. We don't hit Mommy and we don't throw our toys. Off he ran, Woody in hand. I sat there praying fervently that he would one day follow the example of apologizing instead of the example of throwing in anger.
It lingered in my head all day. I shared my Mom fail with a close friend. I shared it with my husband. I needed to confront it instead of hide it. Bring my dark into the light where Satan couldn't use it against me later as a secret I had kept buried deep.
As I watched him happily bounce away, God taught me yet another lesson through the tiny boy. That when we ask for forgiveness, God looks at us, he sees us, he forgives and we all move on. Maybe throwing Woody today wasn't a total loss.
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