WWSD? Not what I did.

There's this woman at my church. I've watched her for a while now -- the way she parents her children, how she reacts to her children, how she disciplines. She's kind of my hero.

 I guess you could call it a mom-crush.

The thing I admire most about her is the way she always maintains her calm when you just know everything in her wants to be anything but calm. Her children are well-disciplined and they respect her, but I've never seen her over-react. I've never heard her raise her voice. Her look alone usually melts her children into submission.

I want to be just like her.

I often find myself in the middle of difficult mom situations asking, "What would she do?" and if I'm honest, it's usually the opposite of what I want to do. And most times? I fail. I allow myself to get frustrated and I react accordingly. Like yesterday.

Yesterday had failure written all over it from the start. When I fixed Cohen's breakfast, I used up all the milk. I knew I had until 1:30 to get us to the grocery store so I could have milk by his naptime, but honestly? I just felt too lazy. So I put off the grocery store as long as I could, even considering giving Cohen apple juice for his nap.

By the time noon rolled around, Cohen was showing me all the signs that he was getting ready for his nap. And I was still unshowerd, undressed, and unmotived to get that milk. After a meltdown over a missing sock and a mini-tantrum involving a thrown monster truck, I decided it was time. I brushed my teeth, put on a hat, and pack up my kid to go to the store. And that's when Cohen decided he did not want to get in his carseat.

We're talking trying to throw himself out of my arms. Screaming. Crying. Fighting me every step of the way until I finally lost my cool. He was in his carseat, arching his back and attempting to slide out as I was trying to get the harness on him. I snapped. Instead of walking away to breathe, I pushed his head back against the seat and raised my voice at him. Not cool. His heart was broken and I felt guilty immediately.

Cohen screamed at the top of his lungs for the first half of the trip. Each time he screamed, I could do nothing but roll down his window and let the shock of cold air stun him until he quieted down. Once he quieted and I had calmed down, I began to explain to him through his whimpers that I knew he was sleepy and hungry and sad. And I was sorry that I got mad at him. But he could not yell and scream at me, ever. He responded with lots of "Otay, Mommy. No screaming." and more whimpers that would lead to more crying.

About 10 minutes in, I asked him what would make him feel better. After all, we had a grocery store to get through, and I was not looking forward to it. He whimpered, "A milkshake, Mommy."

Ok, kid, I'll get you a milkshake.

And you know what? After that, he was back to old Cohen. No more whimpers or tears or screams or kicks. He got his milkshake, and I got a happy kid all the way through the grocery store and back home again.

Being a mom is hard, y'all. It's a constant battle of emotions, of second-guessing myself, of overwhelming feelings of guilt and failure. I want so badly to be a good and loving mother to my children; I pray daily for the wisdom I need to raise my boys the way God wants me to. I know He will bless that. I know there is grace with the Lord when I screw up, just like there was grace when I apologized to my son for acting in anger.

But, I still can't help but wonder: What Would She Have Done??