Tomorrow I will be better

It’s nighttime now.

The boys are in bed, fast asleep.  Eventually.  After an epic battle of wills.

My four year olds gangly limbs tucked up as he curls into a ball, his downy lashes resting on his cheek, as the insolence and temper tantrums of today melt away.  He looks younger than his four (nearly five) years.

My two year olds sweet chubby cheeks flushed, his curls floating round his head like a halo.  A chubby baby in bed.

The picture of innocence.

I look at them, as I do every night, give them one more kiss, one more cuddle, one more whispered I love you.

Turning to walk out the room, and I say to myself.

Tomorrow I will be better

That’s not to say that today has been bad, far from it.  We went swimming, had cake, walked and bought a brand new slide for the boys to have whilst we are here at Grandma’s house for the Middle East summer migration.

Sure, there have been moments, as there are in every day.  Moments of anger, of impatience, of misunderstanding.  From all sides.

But it’s hasn’t been a day from hell where everything has gone wrong.

Just a normal, every day, run of the mill, kind of day.

Yet still I vow.

Tomorrow I will be better

As I do every night.

From waking up in the morning to going to sleep at night I will be better.  It will be a better day.

I will remember that being four is tough and it is his prerogative to change his mind seventeen times before deciding on the first option.

I will remember that children push boundaries and it’s nothing to do with me.  That they are testing the limits set and how far they are allowed to go.

I will remember that what is a small thing to me isn’t necessarily small to them.

I will remember that they have big emotions that spill out.

I will keep my patience.

I will give out more cuddles, more kisses, more love.

I will not shout.

I will do more, be more, see more.

But mostly, I will love them more, each day.

And some days it works, and I am better.

Some days it doesn’t and we have one of those horrible days where everyone falls out.  There is shouting, crying, fighting and the telly goes on more than you’d like.

But every day?

I love them more.

And every day?

I creep into their rooms as they sleep, smooth their hair, whisper I love you, and walk out to vow tomorrow I will be better.

Because even on the very best day I could be better.  And on the very worst day?  I know that there are good times waiting for the sun to rise.

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