Wednesday, January 16, 2008


I used to keep a clean house. I used to go to bed before midnight. I used to listen as my kids' shared the dramatic details of their day. Not anymore. Not since I made my New Year's resolutions to write a blog and start a business from home. It sounded great on Dec. 29. Inspiring. Energizing. In addition to being a mom, I had new reasons to get up in the morning. It felt good to imagine working and making money again. As if I had awoken from some long slumber.

Only problem is, now I can't sleep. My mind races with ideas. Fears of bad ideas, fears of no ideas, fears of failure, fears of success. And as my world becomes more chaotic, my son becomes more volatile. We are going on one straight week where - from the minute I pick him up on the school steps to the minute he goes to bed - he screams. Shrill rants about losing his favorite football, breaking his lego, doing homework, or taking a shower. He screams at his sister, the dog, me. Tonight, I reached my limit. One of his shrieks bulleted through my eardrum into my head. I heard the synapses in my brain fizzle. Felt them short-circuit. I ran up to where he stood, his body tense, anticipating my next move.
"SHUT UP!" I yelled (maybe that's what it took to quiet the little bugger).
"YOU SHUT UP!" he retaliated.
There we stood, a stand-off. Scrunched up face to scrunched up face. At this point, I did what any intelligent, capable mother would do. I took a step back. Counted to ten. Drew in some cleansing breaths...and called Daddy. Yup. I called Daddy and told him to get his A-S-S home A-S-A-P. I retreated to my beloved computer with a glass of wine and some new blogs. My son and I made peace later as he went off to bed. Me? It's nearly midnight. I'm still here. At my computer. Writing to you.

I promise not to scream at you if you don't scream at me.

A restful goodnight.
Until tomorrow...


slouching mom said...

hope today is a better day. we all have our share of less-than-memorable mommy moments. sigh.

MAC said...

As you know, I am right there with you. With mine, there doesn't seem to be an afternoon that goes by--that magical time between pick up and dinner--when there isn't at least one eruption over something. Is it some primal, insatiable need for attention? Are they incapable of learning how to self-soothe when disappointment happens? Will they just transfer their fixation on their mothers solving their problems, calming their jangling nerves, meeting their every whim to some girlfriend or wife? As a wife, I think I already know the answer to that one...

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