If there's one thing I pride myself on as a mother...
Hold up yo.
There's a list 10 miles long of things I pride myself on as a mother. Let's put a few in the display case 'ere:
1. Killer dance parties. I teach them all the right moves. (They're as excited for a little Blurred Lines or Daft Punk as they are for Bob the Builder.)
2. I do Mommy Snuggle Time RIGHT! Blankets. Cookies. Dim Lighting. Stack of books. BOOM.
3. They know who Frank Sinatra is.
4. I know how to naturally drug them to sleep: Play outside (when it's chilly), Big Hot Lunch, Bubble Bath
5. I do voices for
everyone in their books.
6. We talk about Christmas everyday.
7. We've had Family Home Evening every Monday the last 5 weeks.
Holla! And they've improved from our
first shot at it.
8. Kole is officially potty trained. Even at night.
Take THAT last 6 months of cleaning poop!
9. I know the characters from Thomas the Tank Engine. Like
know know them.
10. I taught Joey how to growl like a bear.
11. I taught Joey how to say "Beep! Beep!" (He can't say Mom or Dad but he can say 'Beep! Beep!' when we are in his way.)
12. I've rigged a contraption so Kole can ride his tractor and pull Joey along on his own tractor.
13. I can build train tracks like you've never seen. (I want to start photographing them and make a coffee table book. Yeah.
That good.)
14. I get in the pool with them.
15. I know what all of Joey's cries mean and I know that making a sound like that of passing gas will make him stop crying.
16. I'm a Love and Logic Master. (
and so is Koley.)
But if I had to choose one above allllll the others it would be my ability to not yell when I am mad.
Having a 3 year old and a 1 year old
is frustrating. And to all you mudders who are past this phase- who will tell me that they're precious and lovely and they'll grow up too fast and savor every second and they're God's children... let me say...
Yeah.
Thanks.
I got that.
But they also scream a lot. And cry when there's too much sauce on their noodles. Or because the book ended. Or because it stopped snowing. And they hit each other. And throw things (<-- socks, food, toys, drinks, trains, clothes, books, rocks, dirt, stuffed animals). And they cry like 8 or 9 times an hour. Each. So it's pretty constant since they switch off. And everything in life takes 40 times longer. And they're sticky and hate getting cleaned up. And...
deep short sigh... enough. It's a lot.
So- things are Ker-AAAA-zee with little guys this age and I do get frustrated des temps en temps.
Things That Frustrate Me The Most:
1. Being bad and laughing about it.
2. Not understanding the give-take of
Mom played outside all morning and came up with all these fun ideas and gave 100% of her attention to you, little cubbies, and now its nap time. And they don't take a stinking nap.
3. When I get head bonked or bit.
4. Fighting a diaper change.
5. Crying because they're
so hungry and then crying because they don't like what I cooked and then crying because someone got more and then not eating anything and having a messy kitchen.
6. "No,
You're not listening to
ME! You're a dumb Mom!"
7. When Kole asks a question (Why is it snowing?) and I give a truthful informative answer (
Insert Full Water Cycle here.) and he says, "Actually, you're wrong. It's snowing because Christmas is here." Sure it's cute. But I'm wrong. All. Thetime. Even when I'm right.
8. Getting punched and kicked and getting my hair pulled when I'm hauling Kole to his room for time-out.
But during these times of trouble I hone in on Cora from Downton and breathe deeply and nod slowly. I call them "Darling" and "My Dear" and stroke their little hands and calm them down. We quietly and peacefully work through the day.
Inside, or course, I'm Carmela from The Sopranos. I'm swearing. I'm throwing things through the window. My forehead and neck are all vein-y. My chest is tight. I'm my head I'm making fists. I'm throwing back a scotch. I'm filled with rage.
But I keep it in. I grit my teeth and grind them until my jaw hurts. I purse my lips white tight. My eyebrows are up and my neck is long. And I am fuming mad. But I take that angry ball of Carmela Anger and push it inside of me. As far down as I need to so it doesn't come out.
+
=
Now. My psychology courses (and Life) have taught me that this isn't healthy. One day, inevitably, it will all come out- on the wrong person. Or the little people. Supposedly.
But I have a different theory.
You see, at the end of the day, especially those "trying" days- I have a weird smell about me. It's way worse than B.O. It smells funky and wild. Kinda animal-ly And I'm a clean person! I wear deodorant. I brush my teeth. But nothing masks this wretched smell at the end of my day.
I've taken notice of this smell for the past month. And I've noticed that sometimes its just a normal, bad, stink smell. When the day was just a normal, problem-here-and-there day. But when the day was monstrous... the stink on me is also monstrous. My hair is extra greasy. And I have those radiation stink waves coming off of me. I can't breathe it's that strong and horrendous. I reek. And the angrier I was during the day- the stinkier I am.
I think The Stink is how The Anger gets out.
It's unbearable right after the kids fall asleep. It's just..blech. Icky. And gross. But, I shower, go to bed, and wake up fresh and new in the morning. No anger is left. It's not pent up. It's gone.
I believe my anger is coming out through the pores in my skin in the form of The Stink.
I really put some time and thought into this and when I shared it with Ken he said:
You smell worse because you sweat more wrestling the kids.
*blushing*
I mean... logically... that makes sense.
But...
