Hi Orange Rhinos.

Today’s riddle is brought to you today by Digavise.

Which is longer? A year without yelling? Or a week with young kids and no power?

I’m not sure either! Our Orange Rhino is still without power and unable to post to the blog, though I’m sure the posts post-power-restoration are going to be amazing!

The good news is that she is still able to post to Facebook, so if you head over there, you can help find the humor in this situation and help her count down to the restoration of power.

Written on Facebook November 5th, day ??? without power

What’s on my mind facebook asks? Well first I am thrilled I figured out how to post as The Orange Rhino from my phone. Yeah! And second, well, here is my second.

Tonight I went outside flashlight in hand desperately searching for #3’s winter hat. You all know him to be a tad OCD about his belongings and well, since we made him wear a hat one night to stay warm he hasn’t let it leave his head. Until today. It was bedtime and it couldn’t be found anywhere. I feared a meltdown more than anything so I trekked outside looking for said hat.

Written on Facebook November 4, Day 7 without power…

Hello again! I’m on night 7 of no power and I appreciate you all staying with me and sharing such supportive comments the other night. While what I am going to write right now is theoretically about my current situation it actually applies to this challenge too, and any difficult situation in life. As grateful as I am feeling, I have finally hit the wall. I spent lots of moments today feeling angry and frustrated and annoyed at the situation.

Both my husband and I are fed up and tired and I am pretty sure we are going to lose it with each other and the kids soon if we don’t see at least 1 truck working SOON. As in, like first thing tomorrow morning. But in the middle of all my silent b****ing and moaning this morning, in the middle of a moment when I really wanted to scream at my kids just because I am that on edge, I remembered something I learned at the beginning of this challenge. I have a choice. I can spend all day pissed off and yelling and feeling really miserable as I wallow in self pity OR I can choose to feel only partially miserable.

For so many years of my life I opted for the really miserable. That seemed easier and more comforting at the time. Looking back I am not sure why I ever thought that! But today, and the last 267ish days I’ve CHOSEN the better choice for me, the less miserable choice. It’s hard to make – but it does feel better. How do I make that choice? I find whatever I can to feel positive about (like unexpected family time together). Hokey I know. Again, its taken YEARS to train myself to think this way (and to admit that my mom, who has been drilling this in my head for years, was right). But it works. So that’s what I have for you tonight. Not feeling cranky is a choice. I chose it today. Not yelling is a choice. I also chose that path today, like a thousand times I think! Under the circumstances, both choices were hard as h*ll but equally rewarding as h*ll. And tomorrow morning when I wake up cold and cranky and pissed the kids again missed the memo about daylight savings (argh!) I’ll re-read this. Until then, a nice glass of wine and a fire await. Sleep well!

Written on Facebook November 2nd, day 5 without power

Hello friends and shall I say family? Because in many ways you all feel like family as I have told you and trusted you with many of my deepest emotions! I tried to write today “formally” but am honestly too overwhelmed with emotion to get what’s in my mind and my heart out. So alas, as I sit here in the dark listening to the crackle of the fire and the buzzing of the generator that we were able to rent and run a few hours a night so we can keep the house at 55, I thought I would write to you all “casually.” Hi. We are holding up. I find myself wanting to cry a few times a day though, I’m not going to lie. You all know me to be emotional and this devastation certainly has brought that part of me alive. I keep asking myself why do I keep fighting back tears? Why? Is it because the house is cold, the food blah, the kids stir crazy, my routine gone? NO. I want to cry because I am so grateful. Because I am so lucky. I see trees on houses all around me. I hear sirens every 20 minutes. I see moms with week old babies waiting in line for coffee, food. I get stopped by an elderly man to get directions to the hospital because his wife, in the front seat isn’t feeling well, clearly from the cold, the stress. I, we, my family are lucky. And for that I feel so grateful, yet so guilty. Because while it is bad here and no sign of a power truck in sight, I know it is worse elsewhere. And that just breaks my heart. Do I write this to make you all feel guilty? NO. Please don’t!!! I write because it helps me process the craziness that is around me. I write because it is what I normally do and right now, I crave just a little bit of normal more than anything…(P.S. Thanks for reading and letting me emote.)

256 days without yelling, 109 days of loving more to go

Dear Dr. Seuss…thanks for the inspiration!
~ The Orange Rhino

*

Every boy in OrangeRhino-ville liked Halloween a lot…
but their Mommy, a witch in October, did NOT!
Oh, their mommy hated Halloween! The whole Halloween season!
From the first costume catalog received to the last candy eaten!

She kept her boys from having any Halloween fun,
no she didn’t let them put up any decorations, not even one!
Please, mommy, a spider, a tombstone or maybe a ghost?
No she replied, how about pretty mums, at the most?

The kids tried to cheer her, encourage her, get her in the mood,
but sadly nothing seemed to change her oh-so-grinchy attitude.
Not even a “mommy, be an Orange Rhino, that’d be the coolest costume ever seen!”
could stop her from being hell bent on stealing the spirit of Halloween.

The mommy Witch usually had a big heart and loved all holidays,
but Halloween, no, that one simply filled her with dismay.
Was it the constant fighting over the catalogs to decide who to be,
or the constant “please can I be this super violent, totally tacky, ugly person, mommy?”

She liked to blame the time of the year for all her disdain,
claiming 4 birthday parties back to back drove her insane.
No more planning, extra excitement, or meltdowns galore,
No! I just need a break from extras, I can’t handle any more!

Adding to her misery was the one thing she didn’t know,
how to create a costume from scratch and then sew!
Her mother had made the best costumes on earth,
and now having to buy them only made this Witch question her worth!

What kind of mom am I that shops for costumes online?
And who always has to pay extra shipping to get them in time?
And what kind of mom tries to control what her kids wear?
Don’t I know before the photo opp the costumes will just tear?

Yes, this mommy Witch in OrangeRhino-ville was laden with all sorts of stress,
because even though her boys cared, she could care LESS.
As hard as she tried she couldn’t make Halloween hide,
so she was stuck, b*tching and moaning, as she went along for the ride.

Wizard of Oz theme 2010. I was Dorothy. It was beyond adorable.

To ease her suffering she tried to make them all dress in a theme,
but no, they were getting too old, they certainly didn’t want to look like a team!
Her visions of cuteness she simply had to let go,
it was time to accept that her boys were truly starting to grow.

Ah, the guilt, the fights, the silliness, the stress that came with Halloween,
they made this witch from OrangeRhino-ville mean, mean, mean!
Then one day she flew on her broomstick into Party City
where she saw a young boy and immediately took pity.

He was in a pile of tears on the floor, Star Wars costume clutched in his hand.
“NO you can’t be that!” the Witch heard the mom demand.
“But mommy I love it, I don’t care if there is no laser!”
“I don’t like it, it’s tacky” I said no way-ser!

Oh that is me, such an ugly, horrible site!
Thought the mommy Witch to herself as she shut her eyes tight.
A tear or two, or maybe even three, dripped down her face
as her heart filled with nothing but disgrace.

She tried to run but heard another discouraging chat,
“No you can’t be a Ninja, I simply don’t like that!”
“But mommy, it’s my costume, my turn to choose who I want to be,
You can’t always control me, let me be ME!”

The words stung for they were so incredibly true,
and at that moment the Witch knew just what to do.
She flew to the clerk and asked for three costumes to take:
a Dragon, a Transformer, and a Pirate named Jake.

Tacky costumes in hand she flew to the next aisle,
and grabbed decorations she knew would make her boys smile.
Some spider’s web, a skeleton and a flying, howling ghost,
she finally remembered the one thing about Halloween that she loved most.

It certainly wasn’t the carving of pumpkins or the Reese Peanut Butter cups in the bag,
and no it definitely wasn’t the costumes hanging pathetically still showing their tags.
It was greater, it was better. It was watching the costumes fill out,
as her sons jumped in them with joy and danced all about.

Yes, every time the costumes came to life
the Mommy Witch forgot about all her silly, silly Halloween strife.
She saw the joy in her sons’ eyes as they practiced saying boo,
and her love for her boys, just grew and grew and grew.

Our oldest at 3 weeks old. My husband’s brilliant idea. See? I am not the only one who looks for a photo opp!

www.facebook.com/TheOrangeRhino 

247 days without yelling, 118 days of loving more to go!

Dear Self,

Sometimes, you just have to go with it. Laugh and remember that you too once were a little sh*t ESPECIALLY at times when your mom was losing it and yet she still loved you. In fact, you continue to be a little sh*t and your mom still loves you. So give your son a break.

Sincerely,
The Orange Rhino

*

It was 7:57 sometimes last week, exactly 23 minutes before I had to head out of the house with my darling, beloved Kindergartner  It had been a peaceful morning thus far. No tears. No punches. No “mommy he did this!!!”  No complaints about breakfast. All was going well. And it looked like I would actually leave for school on time that morning.

And then it happened. The “don’t-get-all-cocky-parenting-Gods” heard my thought and cast a spell on my house.

“MOMMMY! MOMMMY! MOMMMY!” #3 screamed hysterically while sobbing.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Gone. GONE! GONE!”

“What honey? I can’t understand you, I’m sorry.” (#3’s speech is improving but when he is hysterical, forget about it).

“Gggggone. It. ggggone. Mkr.”

I surveyed his surroundings to figure out what the heck he was talking about. I had NO bloomin’ clue. Every word I suggested he screamed NO, NO, NOOOO! His screams became even more intolerable to the point where my ears were ringing and #1 had to get earmuffs. There was no deciphering his screams, there was no stopping his screams, there was no relief. Just an absolute desire to scream back even louder.

I cautiously went over to him, hoping he wouldn’t throw his breakfast at me in frustration (yes, that HAS happened). I tried to pick him up to hug him and calm him. He just kicked and hit as hard as possible until I had no choice but to put him down and watch him flail and sob uncontrollably. #3 has made much progress. Much much much progress. But when he loses an item he is attached to he goes apoplectic. Absolutely apoplectic and it sucks.

Then he stopped.

Silence fell upon him.

“MARKER! MARKER! Found!”

There under the kitchen cabinet was his brand new white marker. Phew I thought, we can get back to our nice quiet, gift of a morning. The “don’t-get-all-cocky-parenting-Gods” heard my thought and decided to rattle my morning, again.

“MOMMMMMMMY!”

Sh*t. It started again.

“Gggggone!”

This time I knew the problem. He didn’t have just 1 new marker. He had two. Operative word being HAD two. At this moment he only had one.

I dropped to my hands and knees and frantically looked under the changing table, under the kitchen carpet, under the other cabinets. I went to the bathroom where he had been moments before and looked in the toilet, behind the toilet, in the sink. It had to be somewhere. It just had to be. Markers don’t just get up and walk away you know. No luck. I came back to the kitchen and crawled under the kitchen table and searched under the chairs, in the heating vent.

Shrill screaming continuing in my ears and I had had it. I went to stand up and scream back, forgetting I was under the table.

BAM! I slammed my head on the table. Crap. This morning had turned to CRAP!

“#3, get over it. It’s just a marker.” I snapped as I rubbed my throbbing head.

I looked closely at #3, tears now rolling down his puffy cheeks and starting to form in my own. Oh how I hate it when my son is like this; I hate the frustration he feels. I hate the frustration I feel. I hate not being able to help him, to soothe him. I was tired of looking for the darn marker but I wanted to help my son, I wanted to save him from an even worse meltdown. So where’s a mom to look?

The trash can, obviously.

Markers don’t walk away BUT 14 month olds walk away with things and put them in the trash. Sleeves up, I dug. And dug. Through taco meat, black beans, yogurt, wet paper towels and more. Yuck.  Are you kidding me? All this for a marker? No. All this for love.

Just then #1 sauntered over.

“What ya doing mom?” he sweetly asked, darn well knowing what I was doing.

“Looking for #3’s marker.”

Then I looked at my eldest son closer. I noticed a twinkle in his eye. Make that both eyes. And I noticed fidgeting hands in his pocket. He need not say a word. I knew what the answer to my next question was going to be.

“#1, do you have #3’s marker?”

“Oh this??!!!”

And voila! He presented the damn white marker I had just banged my head over, washed my hands in trash over, almost lost my cool over.

“Are you f*****g kidding me?”I thought to myself.

“Have you had this marker all along?”

Giggle. Giggle. Giggle.

“Are you f*****g kidding me?” I thought to myself again.

And then I giggled, giggled, giggled too.

Because at that moment I was just so relieved to have found the pen that I could have cared less that I now smelled like a trash can and my eldest had just played a joke on me.

Because at that moment I knew I would make my third son smile again, that I would fill his little heart with joy and that was way more important to me than being annoyed with my other son.

Because at that moment love trumped anger.

Dear Orange Rhinos,

This might be too much information. Perhaps too “deep”and too “boring” but I wrote it and figured I might as well share it. Am I alone in this trigger?

The Orange Rhino

*

I just want to cry right now. I am so down and out and feeling cruddy about myself that all I want to do is burst into tears. But I can’t. Because intellectually I know I “shouldn’t” be feeling what I am feeling and so my intellectual side of my brain is desperately trying to beat my emotional side up. It is trying so hard to suppress what I feel. It is trying to be helpful, I know it is but really RIGHT NOW I don’t want to be intellectual. I don’t care if it isn’t healthy to have an unrelenting need to be liked, to be accepted. I don’t care if I shouldn’t care that a few people don’t like me when all the important ones do. I don’t care (right now) if these crappy feelings I am having are just getting in the way of me having a good day; I also kind of don’t care if they are setting me up to yell.

Right now, I just don’t care.

I just want to eat a bacon, egg, and cheese on sesame bagel to feel better. Or perhaps get a grande caffee mocha from Starbucks? I want to eat my pain and frustration with myself away. But I can’t because I am trying to lose weight and part of that has been teaching myself to NOT eat when I am upset. To not fight my emotions with salt and sweets but instead to deal with them. BOO. Eating can be way more fun and tasty.

I just want to curl up in a ball and cry and feel sorry for myself that some people don’t like me and feel sorry for myself that I am so ridiculous to CONSTANTLY struggle with this need to be liked by everyone. I struggle with this back as*wards thinking that the people who don’t like me are more important than those that do. But I can’t. Because I have kids to take care of today and places to be and places to be seen. There is no time to cry today.

I just want to find confidence in ME. I just want to believe in ME. I just want to be happy with ME and MY LIFE even if and when people don’t like me and what I do. And I want to believe all the people that say “the people that care about you are the people that matter.” I want to…

I want to believe and live all these beautiful sayings. But some days, I can’t.

Which leaves me so frustrated.

I just want to understand WHY? Why am I this way? Why do I need to be liked by everyone? Why do I focus on the few who don’t like me instead of being grateful for those who do?

Is it because I heard a bunch of catty girls talking about me in the swimming locker room when I was 7? Because I heard them on more than one occasion blame a lost race on me? Because I heard them say on more than one occasion that I was a loser? That they didn’t like me?

Is it because I am just a naturally insecure person and there is no way I can change my DNA? In other words, am I just screwed?

Is it because of the way I was raised? Was I not loved enough? Was my brother loved more?

Is it because for so many years I was never any one’s #1 go to person and I spent so many years trying to get to that spot, to get people to like me, that it became a habit?

Is it because I have been hurt by a lot of people, disappointed by a lot of people, so that when even one person disappoints me it feels like a 100?

I don’t know the answer. Even my mom doesn’t know the answer. I called and asked her because she obviously knows me the longest and the best. I talked it through with her. I kept saying to her and me, why? why? why do I have this absolutely infuriating, annoying, and ugly personality trait? Why must I have it? It is a pain in the arse and is a major trigger for yelling. If I feel someone doesn’t like me, or I offended someone, I think about it ALL DAY which kind of keeps me from being present with my kids and kinda sets me up to yell BIG TIME because I feel so crappy about me. So why mom, WHY I ask you am I like this? How do I change?

I got off the phone still not knowing.

But I do know this. 703+ words ago when I started writing I wanted to cry. I felt so incredibly crappy that I was certain I was going to scream at my kids today.  For no other reason than mama was in a sad mood. And that desire has passed. Forcing myself to sit and write and think about this personal struggle of mine, forcing myself to face the hard sh*t instead of ignoring it, has helped me feel better. I feel a slight weight lifted for now. It might be slight, and it might be a passing moment, but it is progress. And any progress is progress.