17 days down, 348 to go!
Thanks for helping out with the kids this week during the Great Stomach Bug Infestation of 2012. You have been a huge help. And thanks for just making the most annoying comment ever, it too was a big help as it inspired tonight’s post. You know I love you but sometimes, I would love you more if you kept those precious thoughts to yourself.
Your daughter, a.k.a, The Orange Rhino
“You’re boys are just so precious. You must just sit back and love every single minute of being a mom. “
Um, has she not been living here this week with me? Is that just a shell of herself helping me with no eyes and no ears? Has she not witnessed all the fights from being cooped up sick all week? Or am I just a shallow person who is awful for thinking that um, no, I don’t love every single minute of being of mom? In fact, GASP!, there are sometimes that I outright find motherhood and my “precious boys” so infuriating that I just want to yell AND there are lots of times when I just want to yell at my kids for being “just so precious.”
There I admitted it. Not only am I a Yeller but I don’t always love being a mom. Phew! That feels good to get off my chest even though I know it is not a popular thing to admit… please don’t hate me for my honesty.
Do I love my children? Absolutely. I love them more than I ever knew I could love someone.
Do I think they are precious? Of course I do, they are my boys and they are beyond precious.
Do I just sit back … um no, does any mom have time to just sit back???!
Do I love every single minute of being a mom? No. If I am lucky, maybe 1 day a week I love every single minute of being a mom. If I am fairly lucky, I will go through most of the day feeling that way. But on an average day, it’s 50/50. And on a bad day, well forget about it. 25 love/ 75 want-to-pull-my –hair-out is being generous.
So dear mom, why do you feel the need to say things like you did? So that I can be reminded that no, I don’t feel that way? So that I can feel like a crappy mom and person for feeling that motherhood, this most precious, remarkable journey everyone talks about, sometimes isn’t what it is cracked up to be and it drives me nuts to the point of being a screaming, mean mommy? I mean, what is wrong with me that I don’t love every single minute of being a mom? Was I not meant to be a mom? Am I not entitled to be a mom because I feel this way?
And my mom is not the only one “lovingly” sharing these insights. These people are everywhere! I know their intentions are good, and genuine, and all, but sometimes, I wish they would just keep their thoughts to themselves because they unintentionally make me feel like an inadequate mom for not feeling or acting that way! The waitress at Friendly’s the other night said to me
“You must just sit home and laugh all day at your boys. They are just so funny.” If only she knew just how “funny” they can be.
Yeah, this morning, for example, they weren’t just their normal funny selves (which yes they actually can be) they were beyond hysterical. I had just completed my 7th night of Musical Beds/Floors and no sleep. I was certain that I was going to kiss Day 17 good bye this morning well before the clock read 8 am as we had not been downstairs 10 minutes when the following set-up occurred:
Three kitchen chairs and a wagon. What’s so harmless?
Well, if you must know, darling #3 is currently in a very obsessive-possessive phase. He has three toys that he plays with all day: his toolbox, his tape measure, and of course, his wagon. The older two boys, on any given day, have no interest in these toys. They KNOW to stay away out of fear of the wrath of their younger brother. He is younger, but bigger and can tantrum longer and stronger than the two older ones combined. You simply don’t touch his toys. It ain’t worth the headache that follows or normally, the wrath from mommy that follows used to follow.
But this morning, together, #1 and #2, felt it absolutely necessary, in my fragile state, to take the wagon, which by the way, also held the blessed tape measure, and barricade it in and keep their younger brother from having it.
Well all hell broke loose. #3’s tantrum started at about 7:15am and lasted until 8:15am. Oh yes, he is a tantrumer. I stayed calm – or I was I just delirious and still asleep?
“#1 and #2 you aren’t even using the wagon, can he have it back, PLEASE”
“No. We never get a turn. He doesn’t share.”
“I know he doesn’t share. It isn’t fair. I’m working on that. But right now, I just can’t handle one of his marathon tantrums. Please give it to him for a few minutes. Please, I’m begging you.”
Really, no? I mean give me a bloody break! Here they have no intentions of using the wagon, they aren’t even looking at it, except of course when their brother tries to touch it, and they have already moved on to a new game. Yet God Forbid they take the wagon out of “jail.” They would rather suffer though the obnoxious wailing sound that is consuming their brother and test me to see if I was going to lose it than share the blessed wagon.
Yeah, I just love every single minute of being a mom. And I just laugh all day. Ha. Ha. Ha.
So what did I do? I took a picture of the absolute absurdity of the moment. It didn’t stop the tantrum, but it did put everything into perspective. A wagon. All this yelling was over a wagon. I was going to throw away Day 17 of not yelling over a yellow Fisher-Price wagon. Just saying that makes me laugh, and at the minute I took the picture, I laughed too.
So maybe the waitress was close to right. Maybe I don’t laugh all day, but maybe I should? Maybe that would keep me from losing it, it certainly did here. Mental note: laugh more = yell less.
And maybe my mom was close to right. So maybe I don’t love every single minute of being a mom, and that is ok BECAUSE there is normally at least one minute of the day that I do love being a mom, even on the really really bad days, like today. And I’ll take any and all of the minutes I can get because they are “precious.”