Yo Ma, Calm Down!

I never pictured motherhood to look like this.  I look around and I assess my days and my kids and myself and, honestly, I never pictured it like this. 

Let me clarify “this” for you:

I never expected it to be 8:15 am and to be holding down one kid trying to get peanut butter out of his freshly showered hair while the other kid repeatedly tries to hand me a shoe saying “Can you untie this?  Can you untie this? Can you untie this?” while I repeatedly say “Not right now.  Not right now.  Not right now.” And the peanut butter kid is screaming and the shoe kid is annoying the shit out of me because he just won’t give up and the dog needs to go out and the dishes need to be done and I need to shower because the last time I showered was…well it wasn’t today…and I’m trying my best to keep it together but all I end up screaming because it’s supposed to be “walk to school day” but I know there is NO WAY we will make it if we walk to school.  And on the way to school we pass all the happy, put-together families who were able to get up and out and walk to school.  And when we get there the friendly teacher says that if we walked to school we get to go sign some piece of paper and get our pat on the back…but we didn’t.  We didn’t walk to school.  And after I drop shoe boy off I have to go back into my car and listen to peanut butter boy who is now crying because he wanted to get out of the car at the school and I wouldn’t let him.  And again…I just want to scream.

Here’s the part where I really want to write “Does anyone else ever have one of THOSE mornings?” But in reality, I can’t even write that with a straight face because that’s a pretty typical morning around here.

Every day is crazy. Everyone yells in my house.  All the time. 

And I know we’re not supposed to. I know that as the parent I’m supposed to stay cool and collected but I basically find this task impossible.  I don’t have it in me.  And before you preach…I’ve tried.  Seriously.  I’ve stood there in the middle of my two screaming kids and tried to speak to them in a peaceful tone without raising my voice. 

In order to gauge the effectiveness of this technique please picture trying to hear a butterfly flap its itty bitty delicate wings in the middle of a busy downtown city street.  Can’t be done.  Me basically whispering in the middle of an all-out “He touched my Legos!” type brawl also cannot be done.  I may as well stand there and pick my nose…actually I may get a better reaction if I stood there and picked my nose.

Note to self: Try nose picking technique.

Now, I’m not saying it’s impossible to stay calm as a parent.  I’ve seen it done.  I know it exists. 

I have a friend who I’ve known for a year now and through many playground interactions, play dates, school functions etc.  I have never once heard her raise her voice.  Ever.  She’s always the mom who can rationalize anything to the kids and do it with poise and grace and I honestly don't have any idea how she does it. 

She’s over there all:

 

And then there’s me over here all:

 

But, like, I really want to be the normal mom.  I don't want to be the mom with the clenched teeth who is trying to convey with her eyes on the playground just how much trouble her kids are going to be in when she gets them to the car.  I don't want to be the mom who tries deperately to get her kids to stop fighting about where in the car they want to sit (because EVERY SEAT IS THE EXACT SAME DAMN SEAT) but ends up losing her shit in the end.  But I always end up doing the shit losing thing.

So I yell…and then I feel guilty for yelling…so I say I’m going to stop yelling…and that lasts about 37 seconds…

It’s like my kids will only stop doing whatever they’re doing when I get to the point where they fear my head might ACTUALLY explode and then I might make them clean it up.  And there’s nothing they hate more than cleaning up. 

Why you gotta make Mama go all kinds of bat shit, kids?

 

So what’s the point of this post? I’m not sure.  But I just wanted to know if I’m alone in the wild yelling department.  Am I the only one who tries to stay calm but ends up looking like a crazed zombie anyway?  And not those slow moving bastards either, I’m talking about the fast-as-hell, better move your ass or Mama’s gonna eat ya, type of zombie.  Because psychotic moms need love too …