Some times things smooth out. It's all relative of course, my idea of smooth and the general population's are probable a little different. The shouty fighty bits get a little less shouty fighty and we start to relax a little and it all seems doable. Perhaps I'm able to walk this line between push over and commandant, therapist and policeman.
As hours turn to days my confidence grows, deludedly I think that I'm good at this stuff, at least this week.
Then it all unravels.
I get shouty, snippy, pointy and dysregulated, I want to say it was provoked and it was a reasonable reaction to unacceptable behaviour. It wasn't it was over a little bit of normal child procrastination and distraction during the school run. I should have been better. Damn, damn, damn and blast. The night before I was high giving myself over my therapeutic verbal gymnastics. Now that's all gone.
My parenting feels like a house of cards that I'm slowly building sometimes I can't even get the basics right, two cards propped together. Some times I get further three tiers of cards, the high level parenting stuff that they write in the expensive books and preach at he la de daa courses. I'm learning one things for sure the house will fall, sooner or later, I will fail.
Of course I know all the 'good enough' theories, for heavens sake I reel them off quickly enough to others. I could meditate on some Facebook meme of a kitten in a bucket advising me that
'a true measure of a person is not how many times you cock it up but how many times you get up'
or some such pseudo motivational pap.
Of course it was all ok in the end, no harm done, tomorrow's another day and we all make mistakes. Blah blah blah.
Doesn't mean I don't feel pants.