I have been really into everything MOM these days. I have been very active on a forum for moms, and have been so interested in hearing the perspectives of other mothers and how they deal with their children and the tough circumstances that arise. I love that more and more moms are not pretending to be perfect anymore, and that they are talking about their struggles! Because let's face it, every single day as a parent is a struggle. EVERY SINGLE DAY.
Because I want to be a good mother, I try to really censor what comes out of my mouth in front of the kids. I sometimes feel like screaming, "Shut up!", but instead I smile and nod my head, or patiently say, "Mommy needs a little bit of quiet time right now, please go play in your room." This practice has taken me years to do somewhat successfully, and I still falter from time to time. Sometimes I catch myself mid-word, and it turns into, "Shush," because I really don't believe a kid needs to learn how to say shut up from their parents.
I have a five year old, and let me tell you, this age is particularly trying for me. She never stops. Even when she is on the brink of sleep, her lips are still moving. "Mom, what if...?", "Mom, why...?", "Mom, can I...?". It honestly drives me to the brink of madness. In my logical mind, I know I should be happy that she is so inquisitive and talkative, because she is engaging her brain in meaningful learning. In my logical mind, I should be able to patiently answer her questions. In my real mind, I am wearily wishing she would just stop, just give me a few moments of peace. In my real mind, I am actively pushing down annoyance and putting an enthusiastic smile on my face and answering the barrage of questions that is forever coming.
Something my five year old also does is scream. Oh my goodness, does she ever scream. She has no concept of volume control, and I am constantly telling her to bring her voice down. She constantly forgets. The screams escape like they are coming out of their own accord, and she seemingly has no control over it. I catch myself saying 5, 6, 18 times a day, "No screaming in the house!", while I'm shouting...Yes, I have to shout. It's the only way she will hear me. Sometimes I want to get some duct tape and stick it over her mouth, but I know it won't do any good. She will still scream. She's five. Inside my head, I am the one screaming though, and between the outer noise and loud inner dialogue, I give myself a big fat headache. Not to mention the baby is picking up the habit as well.
My almost 11 month old drives me equally as crazy. She's at the stage where she is into absolutely everything, and thinks it's a game when I say no. I say to her in my sternest mommy voice, "No, do not climb the stairs," and she laughs and climbs faster. I say to her, "Yucky, don't put that in your mouth," and she smiles and proceeds to put it in her mouth. I fully realize that she is a baby, and doesn't fully understand yet. But she does understand the word 'no'. She most certainly does. In my mind, I am saying, "Oh my goodness, can I just sit down for a moment please? Do you have to find the smallest piece of lint on the floor and put it in your mouth? Yes, I guess I do have to vacuum...again." On the outside, I often appear like I am calm and happy, simply taking the object from her, or pulling her off the stairs for the umpteenth time. I'm like a broken record.
How many times in the middle of the night have I said to myself, "When am I going to be able to just sleep?" in sheer and utter frustration? Millions, gazillions, a ridiculous number of times. I, like every other mother of young children, am exhausted, perpetually. I run on caffeine and sheer force of will. This just adds to the strain, to say the least. Sometimes I think that if I could just get some sleep, all the other stuff would be easier to deal with. But alas, I am not going to get any for quite some time...let's say, 18 years or so? Shut up and accept it right? Well, that doesn't mean that inside I can't be just as indignant as ever. I can yell and curse inside my head, and be as grumpy as I want as long as I have a patient smile plastered across my face. That's right, I fake it. I fake it like there's no tomorrow. Oh well, cest la vie. This is life.
I also run a day home, as you may well know. This gets a little, should we say, hairy at times. During these summer months I have had, on some occasions, 9 children in my house. Yes, I know it's over capacity. I'm not going to say no to the money. I might be sleep deprived and a little bit crazy in my head, but I'm not stupid. Besides, they entertain each other fairly well. Until someone's feelings get hurt, or someone 'accidentally' hits someone else, or takes a toy someone else was already playing with. Then it's tears and accusations, and I can barely get a word in edgewise. Yes, having a plethora of children in my tiny little duplex between the ages of 11 months and age 10 is, shall we say, fun. Yeah, fun is good word for it. Fun is when there is so much noise I think I might explode. Fun is preparing lunches for so many kids that I have every chair in my house full, plus the highchair. Fun is trying to get them all to eat the same thing. Fun is doing crafts in my cramped kitchen and spending an hour cleaning up afterward. Yep, it's fun. I'm not saying I don't enjoy what I do, but it does make it so that I really look forward to five o'clock. I have some great kids, but I like it when they go home. I'm just saying.
Sometimes having a husband is fun too. I have a really fantastic husband, but like many other men, I'm pretty sure he has no idea how to clean a bathroom. Or pick up his empty pop cans without being asked. Or do the dishes. Oh, I know he can do these things. I know his mother! But, does he? Not usually. You can imagine my dismay when I have been cooking, cleaning, refereeing, and diapering all day long and I have to pick up after someone else now too. Yes, he works all day long, and to his credit, has an incredibly taxing and exhausting job, but I'm pretty sure he can at least put his dishes in the sink. I'm making it sound worse than it really is, but this is my frustrated inner dialogue shared for the world to see.
I write all of this with the baby on my lap, trying to push the keys on the computer, grabbing the glasses from my face, giving me big wet kisses and treating me as if I were a jungle gym. So why bother? Well, it keeps me sane for one thing. For another, when am I going to find time later? I have a list about ten feet long of things to do before I head out for the weekend tomorrow, which is a chore in and of itself. So, here ends my crazy inner dialogue, for today at least. I hope that if any of you are in the same boat, you can take comfort in the fact that you're not the only crazy woman out there. I'm a prominent member of the club too!
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