It’s confession time. I’m not asking for repentance or even
an “Oh but you’re a great mom…Really” however, if you want to buy me a cup of
coffee or a margarita and lament with me on the challenges of motherhood, I am
all in.
3 boys.
On paper, it doesn’t seem like much. And there are plenty of
days when it doesn’t feel like much.
And yet, as I type my 9 year old is FREAKING THE HELL OUT at
the T.V. because he cannot pass a level on some video game, my 5 year old is
upstairs indignantly cleaning his disaster of a room that was spotless not two
days ago and the 3 year old is asleep at almost 5:00 in the afternoon.
Now that last part
SEEMS great, calm, lovely, and it is…right
now. But when he inevitably wakes up a little later in the evening and is
in a mood that rivals an angry frat boy being kicked out of a bar it will not
be so lovely. And later tonight, I know I will be kicking myself for not trying
harder to keep him awake when it is the kid’s bedtime. Heaven forbid husband and I
will want to watch a show with cussing and sex or, not watch t.v. and act like
married people, or even better, sleep… but there will be #3 popping downstairs
saying that he’s “Just not tiiii-yaaard”
(which of course he’s not because he got all the sleep he needed this
afternoon).
As I said, there are days when 3 kids isn’t the worst fate
to be handed. Then, there are other days when I look at the amazingly beautiful
faces of my angry screaming children and I wonder what on Earth I ever did to
deserve the hellish torcher that has been wrought upon me.
…
Like last night when my writing was brought to an unceremonious
stop by the furious 9 year old. The reason? After giving him a 15, then 10, the
5 min. warning that it was almost time to turn off the wii, all of which he acknowledged
he was beside himself with the injustice of me not giving him a heads up. Not
to mention the beyond indignant 5 year old who finished his room just in time
for the video games to be turned off for the night. They needed to know why I
hated them. Why I couldn’t understand what is important in life. Why I want to
ruin everything that matters to them. I pointed out that just an hour before I
had been the best mom ever because we drove through Sonic for Happy Hour on the
way home from car line but, clearly that had been long forgotten and that one “cool
mom” move was now completely null and void.
In the end, they ran a few laps around the block because I
just couldn’t take their shit anymore.
This is always the point in a rant in which as a mom I feel
I need to pull back a little, say things like, I love my kids, really, I do.
And I do, that is not to be questioned of any mom that needs to vent about her
kids. And the truth is, my kids are actually pretty good kids. In general they
are well behaved, polite and make eye contact when people talk to them. I don’t
even take credit for that, it’s just who they are. But kids are human, like me,
like my husband, like you. And sometimes, every once in a while, or in the case
of some, every hour or so, humans can be ass holes.
I have read various articles, or blogs that have gone viral
about how kids are small people with big emotions and that they can’t always control
their feelings or what they say. O.K. sure, I’ll give you that to an extent.
Kids are tiny and they are learning and growing and “becoming” every day, I don’t
deny this or have any interest in shaming them for it. But being human myself, I can’t help but get
frustrated by this behavior and have an inner dialog that is just one long
string of cusswords blurred together. I do my very best not to say these words
or thoughts out loud, though, I’m not gonna lie, one may slip from time to
time.
Like, for example, when the 5 year old throws a fit at Sonic
because you said no to a milkshake but yes to a slush. And then throws an even
bigger fit because you decided that due to the first fit, said child now gets
nothing.
Or when you work your ass off to cook a meal and then the 9
year old says something like “Mommy, I think that next time you may need to
pull back on the salt a little”.
Or perhaps when the 3 year old insists on wearing a tank top
and then gets pissed beyond reason because he has no sleeves.
These of course are small things and really just minor
symptoms of a much bigger problem…They. Are. Human.
And I am human, and as such sometimes I need to pull out my
trusty old laptop and bitch to the interwebs about how my tiny humans are
driving me up a damn wall today…..But I love them…
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| Our "Angry faces" to go with the blog post. |
