ashamed and embarrassed

My dining room, currently an eyesore, needs some attention.  Badly.  It contains a hutch, a school desk, a high chair, a six-chair table, and a chart stand for teaching.  For three days my efforts to tidy that room failed--a cluttered mess remains.

Not a huge deal, this.  I know that.  However, looking at the mess for three days while not being able to clean it, apparently eroded my sanity.  For tonight, arriving home after AWANA (we both helped there), one of my childish meltdowns occurred.

My husband left for work, and my children enjoy slumber. Sitting here alone, embarrassed and ashamed about my fit, I feel much sorrow.

I shouted at them--lecturing about listening better, and about attending to bedtime prep immediately after AWANA.  I even shouted at three-year-old Mary, for losing her security blanket; it took thirty minutes to find it, delaying sleep even more.  Probably, the words rant and rave convey just how ridiculous I sounded.

I share this not to elicit sympathy, but to remind myself to refrain.

I want to awaken them, hug them, and tell them how sorry I feel.

Would you like to know the worse thing about parental fits?  We rarely remember them the next time one of our children falls into one.  We act as though they should be ashamed of themselves.  But everybody melts down occasionally--especially following too much work and not enough recharging.

My children never berate me for my fits, and they accept my apologies with grace.  I need to learn from them, and try harder to ignore their fits--or hold them through them--rather than react.  Because, really, it feels lousy to be in the middle of a meltdown.  How many of us like having them?  They usually leave us feeling ashamed, or like we need a good cry.

Regarding the cause (pervasive messiness):  I keep meaning to set a timer and have everybody drop what they're doing, and pick up ten things, several times a day.  A simple idea, and yet it would yield much sanity around here.

I simply must try that tomorrow.  In the meantime, a mess calls.

Blessed night to you, Friends.

Post Script--I read a Bonnie Trenga article today about eliminating weak, boring be verbs from my writing.  I found this a fun exercise, but harder than I thought!  My passive sentence habit must go!