I'm not screwing this up, this is really f'ing hard.
I'm always amazed at how long it takes me to adapt. I really see myself as an adaptable person (maybe I'm misguided?), so either I'm not learning anything or I'm in a sleep deprived state that learning is not possible in. I've been parenting for 6 years in March and I would love to think that it takes me less time than that to analyze and sort out what I think about how I'm managing. I guess it's taken me this long to stop listening to the haters and start embracing the job I'm doing.
I am an overachiever by nature, this much is clear. This leads me to strive to always outdo my own expectations and this has served me well in almost every area so far. In parenting, however, the normal rules don't apply. A dose of humility is required and a whole lot of forgiveness. I don't excel at forgiving myself. Each time I raise my voice, spank (lightly) a bottom, rant and rave and cry in the kitchen/family room/car, I stew about it for days. I feel low and ugly and mean and awful. In every blog I've read about this the mother then clarifies the frequency with which these ravings occur so that child services isn't called. I'll spare you that analysis and just say: we are fine and I'm not beating my kids.
If you google "mother rage" it becomes quite clear that this isn't a rare or odd phenomena. Almost every mother, when given the safety to be honest, will tell you that their kids can push their buttons like no other human. On a day where I've had a rough time at work and the car needs gas and I'm late and I spill something on my expensive shoes it's worse. On a day when there is nothing on the schedule and I'm relaxing with Henry on the couch and work calls with something annoying and unnecessary, it creeps up. I'm sure a few years of focus and counseling and this would all be a distant memory and I'm working on that, but right now is when my kids are developing. Right now is when they are having their childhood, right before my very eyes. My learning to mother is happening now and to them and it matters how fast I can pull my shit together. It is part of their life experience and that stresses me out. So as you can see I spend a lot of time thinking about it and trying things to make it better.
Yesterday was a particularly challenging day, not so much for me because the kids were great when I was with them, but for Adam. We attempted to take the 4 of us for haircuts at 2:30 and by 3:30 after the kids had their hair did the meltdown ensued. Quinn was behaving like a monster and Henry was following suit. There was a meltdown and a trip to the car and I stayed in the chair to feel powerless (albeit while looking pretty awesome when the stylist was done). It occurred to me once it was quiet and Adam had dragged the monsters to the car that through some black hole in the universe that we had missed feeding them lunch. The morning was busy and we were focused on getting out of the house in time for the haircuts that we missed lunch entirely and in some rarity the kids didn't share their hungry feelings, they went straight to monster mode. Adam threatened to cancel our evening plans, he ranted and raved about taking away precious items and threw his arms in the air and stomped his feet. Parenting fail right? Absolutely. The fail wasn't the ranting, it was the lunch forgetting. It was a rookie mistake and we all make them.
It was after the world had stopped spinning out of control and the monsters were fed some peanut butter sandwiches that I had a chance to look at it objectively (you see it wasn't me who had done the raging so I could see it clearly) that I realized Adam wasn't a bad dad (and by the same reasoning I'm not a bad mum), this gig is fucking hard. Some days are going to be better than others. Some days we will be able to sit and be patient and explain for the 100th time about how it's important to be kind and not hit/scream/throw things and that we are each responsible for our volume so we can enjoy our time together blah blah blah. On those days we will feel superior and together and like we are nailing it. On other days we will throw our arms in the air and wonder where our old selves went that could accomplish anything, do anything, be anything and yet we've been reduced to an emotional ball of human by a 5 year old.
I read something this week about a family who had lost their son/brother to depression and suicide and to loosely quote the sister she said that it was hard, they hurt themselves, they hurt each other but they kept loving, they kept trying. We've had our own losses, some graver than others, and these words rang true.
"Keep loving, keep trying" - we are definitely nailing that.
"I'm not screwing this up, this is really fucking hard" - got that too.
So I am learning. Everyday a new lesson. Writing it down, yet again, so I don't forget.
I am an overachiever by nature, this much is clear. This leads me to strive to always outdo my own expectations and this has served me well in almost every area so far. In parenting, however, the normal rules don't apply. A dose of humility is required and a whole lot of forgiveness. I don't excel at forgiving myself. Each time I raise my voice, spank (lightly) a bottom, rant and rave and cry in the kitchen/family room/car, I stew about it for days. I feel low and ugly and mean and awful. In every blog I've read about this the mother then clarifies the frequency with which these ravings occur so that child services isn't called. I'll spare you that analysis and just say: we are fine and I'm not beating my kids.
If you google "mother rage" it becomes quite clear that this isn't a rare or odd phenomena. Almost every mother, when given the safety to be honest, will tell you that their kids can push their buttons like no other human. On a day where I've had a rough time at work and the car needs gas and I'm late and I spill something on my expensive shoes it's worse. On a day when there is nothing on the schedule and I'm relaxing with Henry on the couch and work calls with something annoying and unnecessary, it creeps up. I'm sure a few years of focus and counseling and this would all be a distant memory and I'm working on that, but right now is when my kids are developing. Right now is when they are having their childhood, right before my very eyes. My learning to mother is happening now and to them and it matters how fast I can pull my shit together. It is part of their life experience and that stresses me out. So as you can see I spend a lot of time thinking about it and trying things to make it better.
Yesterday was a particularly challenging day, not so much for me because the kids were great when I was with them, but for Adam. We attempted to take the 4 of us for haircuts at 2:30 and by 3:30 after the kids had their hair did the meltdown ensued. Quinn was behaving like a monster and Henry was following suit. There was a meltdown and a trip to the car and I stayed in the chair to feel powerless (albeit while looking pretty awesome when the stylist was done). It occurred to me once it was quiet and Adam had dragged the monsters to the car that through some black hole in the universe that we had missed feeding them lunch. The morning was busy and we were focused on getting out of the house in time for the haircuts that we missed lunch entirely and in some rarity the kids didn't share their hungry feelings, they went straight to monster mode. Adam threatened to cancel our evening plans, he ranted and raved about taking away precious items and threw his arms in the air and stomped his feet. Parenting fail right? Absolutely. The fail wasn't the ranting, it was the lunch forgetting. It was a rookie mistake and we all make them.
It was after the world had stopped spinning out of control and the monsters were fed some peanut butter sandwiches that I had a chance to look at it objectively (you see it wasn't me who had done the raging so I could see it clearly) that I realized Adam wasn't a bad dad (and by the same reasoning I'm not a bad mum), this gig is fucking hard. Some days are going to be better than others. Some days we will be able to sit and be patient and explain for the 100th time about how it's important to be kind and not hit/scream/throw things and that we are each responsible for our volume so we can enjoy our time together blah blah blah. On those days we will feel superior and together and like we are nailing it. On other days we will throw our arms in the air and wonder where our old selves went that could accomplish anything, do anything, be anything and yet we've been reduced to an emotional ball of human by a 5 year old.
I read something this week about a family who had lost their son/brother to depression and suicide and to loosely quote the sister she said that it was hard, they hurt themselves, they hurt each other but they kept loving, they kept trying. We've had our own losses, some graver than others, and these words rang true.
"Keep loving, keep trying" - we are definitely nailing that.
"I'm not screwing this up, this is really fucking hard" - got that too.
So I am learning. Everyday a new lesson. Writing it down, yet again, so I don't forget.
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