It had been raining all day today. I’ve always loved the rain, so you won’t hear any complaints from me. There is a quiet kind of magic in the air when it rains—the way the cold settles outside but somehow ushers a gentle warmth within.
But my intention today is not to write about the weather. I simply wanted to sketch the atmosphere around me before diving into what has been unfolding in my life lately.
Two days ago, I lost my temper. Truly lost it—with my children, El and Gi. I had been trying to be the patient, composed mother they deserve. So what pushed me into saying the things I said? It began early in the morning when I tried to wake them for school. They had set their alarms for five o’clock, only to switch them off and fall back asleep. I shook them gently, making sure they really woke up. Their excuse was almost comical: “Why bother with the alarm? You’ll wake us anyway.”
Right. Inhale. Exhale. I remember trying to steady myself at that moment.
To keep it short, after I dropped them off at school, picked them up, and brought them home, I attempted—very calmly—to talk to them like any mother would. But they didn’t seem to register my words at all. And that was when another version of myself surfaced—the fiercer one. It was as if they were provoking the appearance of a different side of their mother, and they succeeded.
Even so, beneath what looked like a loss of control, my children understand why I grew angry. I cannot claim that my reaction was the right one, nor do I feel any pride or satisfaction from it. If anything, the anger revealed what lies beneath: a mother who still deeply, instinctively cares.
I suppose that’s all for now. I’m still wrestling with several presentations, but I’m doing my best to show up here and write consistently again.
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