I couldn't read and not reply. Your post made me cry.
This is me.
The mummy that sweeps her gorgeous boy up in the morning, both of us smiles and giggles, and then the mummy that tells me him how much of a pita he is when he won't sleep when I "need" him too. Only I have slammed the door, right in his little face and my heart breaks when I hear him sob. It's too late then, I've done the damage.

I've been working on my patience and frustration levels too the last month. This week I've only lost it twice.
Slowly slowly.