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A mother's guilt

I have a confession to make...

Little Miss M is only 3 years old (no, that's not my confession.  Read on).  She's the sweetest thing.  Really she is.  And she just loves to talk.  She just can't seem to stop.

However, even though she loves to talk and can have quite grown up conversations, she doesn't really know how to "fight".  I don't think so, anyway.  I mean, I'm right in the throes of guilt at the moment, so that means my child IS AN ANGEL with a HORRIBLE mommy.

So, at this point in time, my dear sweet child is, in my mind and probably in reality as well, incapable of fighting.  

And when I report to my Dear Husband that Little Miss M and I had a fight, what really happened is that mommy (that's me) had a hissy fit.  That's right.  And if I report that I had a bad fight with Little Miss M, it probably means that I threw a tantrum.  Not an adult's equivalent of a tantrum, but a real screaming, hair-pulling (my own hair, mind you), make-any-3-year-old-proud, tantrum.  

It's my secret shame.

But it won't be a secret anymore.  And it won't be my shame anymore.  Because I am giving up my tantrums.  Cold-turkey.  No more.  

So that's my confession and my promise.  I hope I never have to confess to this again.

And, in the meanwhile, to assuage my guilt, I made this for my little one.  



I love you Little Miss M.  And I'm so sorry for my bad behaviour.

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