I was a bad mom this morning.
I was not patient. I lost my cool, more than once. I had reached the end of my rope — a rope that is already worn from parenting a child who struggles to control her behavior and emotions.
And now? I am struggling . . . with guilt. Guilt over not being the best version of myself, once again. Guilt over the many ways I could have handled things differently.
I was a bad mom. And I know that she needs me to be better.