Am I Ruining My Child?

Today, out of nowhere, my toddler started banging the sheets with her hand until I, with my one year old latched and almost asleep, turned my head to look at her questioningly. She was looking at me with stern eyes and said, “don’t be so loud. You’re waking me up.”

I had, for the past 15 minutes ( much more on other days) been repeatedly asking her to calm her body, close her eyes and not talk.

Now I looked at her with my stern gaze and said, “I don’t understand. You are the one making …” I really didn’t want to get into the who was doing what game, “go to sleep!”

It’s been like this for a while. I know, I should not make nap time the battle ground. The problem is that I am so tired, I am desperate to get the girls down to sleep, and hopefully catch a few winks myself so that I can get through the rest of the day.

But in reality, I need to recognize how great she is doing, because even if she can’t sleep, she stays in her bed, and if she’s talking, she usually does it quietly…pretty damn good for an almost three year old. Unfortunately, when I am in the middle of the struggle to get us all calm, it really irks me and I get worked up…mostly out of disappointment that things aren’t happening the way I’d like.

Well, today was different, it was the first time she was deliberately making noise to get my attention.

She thumped the bed again and in a loud voice said “Stop waking me up!”

I lost it. I was desperate to not wake up the little one. I thumped her bed with my open palm in frustration and an attempt to startle her quickly into silence (this was my first clue), then before she could yell, I grabbed her up and ran out of the room and set her forcefully down onto the floor of the play room, giving in to my initial spike of anger. I could see the tears in her eyes and was immediately full of regret. I do not ever want to physically move my kid out of anger, nor dominate her with my power. I had just, completely lost it.

I hissed at her to calm herself and stop the none sense, that we all needed to rest. I have no idea what other random threat I might have thrown in there. Verbal gibberish.

But of course, after the initially adrenaline and anger had passed, I felt like total shit. She fell asleep quickly after that having been scared into lying still.

I too fell into an uneasy sleep that ended with two nightmares in rapid succession. In the first, I left both my girls sleeping by themselves while I ran outside to gather our picnic food and gear that I had forgotten. Somehow all of our stuff had either been stolen or dispersed across the lawn, so that I had to search far afield for everything. It ended with me running back to the apartment finally to discover my father-in-law had had to comfort the kids because they had awoken alone and were crying. I thought child protective services would be coming.

The next dream had me following my husband on a snow covered road in my car while he walked ahead with the girls in a sled. Somehow a huge truck suddenly backed up right where the girls were and then pulled away quickly. I ran at his truck yelling at the driver and slamming on his window, but he sped away. It was night and car lights illuminated both my girls lying still on the snow covered road, blood on my toddlers leg. I wasn’t sure if they were alive or dead.I was about to scream.

That woke me up.

And I know that it was all precipitated by the turmoil in my head as I tried to figure out how it is that I can just totally lose it like that;  and angry at myself knowing how completely unacceptable it is. I am the adult, I need to be in control of my emotions.

The biggest realization was that this triggering event, while seeming like a random outburst from my kid, was really just her trying out a behaviour that I have demonstrated to her. When she scowls at me, or opens her eyes wide and fiercely, it’s because she’s seen it on my face. And I have smacked the covers. I did it just then, as though mirroring her, but in actuality I had done this, probably, before.  And I have moved her physically, and that is why she does it to her sister. She is merely mirroring back to me what I have done.

I don’t like it. Am I, by example, ruining my kid on some level? How can I expect good behaviour from her when I myself am behaving badly?

When she woke up she joined me on the couch. She was sleepy and sullen. Not very responsive.

I brushed the hair from her forehead. She let me hold her limp, beautiful, capable, tiny hind and kiss it. I pulled her into my lap and kissed her head.

And then I apologized. I said that I was wrong to be mad and that I had done wrong, that mommy’s make mistakes and I would do better.

She looked at me and said, “ok. Because that made me feel…sad.”

I know, it made me sad too. I just kissed her again and held her close.

What is this madness that can overtake me? Motherhood is…so god damn challenging…so amazing and awful…I can feel so full of regret and self loathing while also feeling amazed at what I am capable of by growing, birthing and raising these little human beings.

I will process this and move on; try to forgive myself, and most importantly, do better.

Cleaning While Angry

I’m pissed.

It’s my own damn fault. I get so excited Friday evening when my hubby comes home and I anticipate some much needed back up. This evening I pushed the idea of baking “troll cupcakes” together as a family – an idea my toddler brewed up after reading a story about a troll who liked cake and which had a recipe on the last page (damn you story books with recipes on the back page!!). I always assign baking to my husband because he likes the sweets and usually can really get behind something like that. And he was a good sport and showed a fair level of enthusiasm for a Friday evening after a long day of work.

Of course, we didn’t have all the necessary supplies, so we hit the grocery store as a family. A quick run turned into an all out shopping event. So, by the time we were home it was getting late and my toddler was excited for cupcakes that hadn’t yet been made and my infant was starting to fuss. My toddler was also hungry, so amidst the chaos of baking supplies, flour everywhere, I also began popping popcorn.

My hubs, not so accustomed to the anarchy and general hullabaloo of a multitasking woman and two rambunctious under-3-year olds, got sort of…frantic.

I decided it was time to plunk them into a sudsy tub to soak off some grime and help them wait for the cupcakes to bake in a more productive and distracting way.

Then, the hubs injures himself in some freak putting-the-beater-bars-into-the beater accident. Turns out, he was at the end of his rope trying to make icing and decided that the best way to finesse an uncooperative beater was to slam it really hard. Well, the result was a cracked beater still missing one of its arms and the hubs with a really badly cut finger.

And he was pissed and said something about not having had a moment to sit down and he couldn’t do this and I would need to put the kids to bed tonight.

So now I am pissed…because I’m thinking…you broke my flippin’ beater, and you are suggesting somehow that this is all my fault? I’m pissed that he didn’t just communicate his needs before it all came to this, and now the fall-out is that I don’t have any down time either, in fact, I need to take on his role as well. Funzies. I don’t do well without fair warning.

So the kids are finally down. Everyone has bathed except me. But screw that, I’m pissed. The house is a flegacking mess and I feel like I have something to prove. I am a productive person, I have not just spent my entire day aimlessly flitting about while the hubs was hard at work. I know he must know this, but now I have something to prove.

Anger cleaning can be very productive. I got the dishes done, tidied the books and the playroom, cleared the kitchen table, ran a load of laundry and bleached some cloths.

Now I finally have a moment to sit and type. I’m exhausted, but I don’t want to go to bed. This is my time goddamnit. Tomorrow will be a clean slate. We’ll speak no more about it, because we both know that this is just how it goes: sometimes, being parents makes us crazy.

I’m glad I got something done in the process.

 

Mommy Loathing

I feel very down on myself this evening. For the past two days I have been a less than stellar mother.

Alright, I was recovering from a bout of food poisoning, so I didn’t have the usual energy (if you can call it that) that I normally have (I am laughing at that sentence already, because really, what energy do I ever have, let’s be honest). And as a bi product of that, I also had a shorter temper.

I have been trying hard to work on my irritability level. A lot of it has to do with not accepting where I am at. There’s a lot of resistance to overcome when you find yourself a stay at home mom (SAHM) and no longer earning money nor finding much time to remember who you are as a person outside of child rearing. Reading Shefali Tsabary‘s books have helped a lot. But staying in that zen “as is” kind of state is not easy. And when I am irritable, I find it very hard to stop in my tracks, take a deep breath and change gears…though isn’t that what we are always asking, in fact demanding, of our children. Hmm.

Let me be clear, I do not yell at my kids. I am never physically aggressive. I want to parent gently, to model the behaviour I want to see them using. But the past few days I have not been able to do that. I’ve caught myself almost whining ” C! PLeeeease stop it” or muttering ” I can’t DO this” under my breath. My poor husband has been a total saint through all of this- he stepped up to take care of our toddler while I was busy hugging the bowl. Seeing my frustration, he’s tried to step in and distract, but often, my kiddo wants me and only me to my great chagrin.

I guess the problem is that, when I am exhausted, I end up repeatedly asking my toddler to stop a behaviour without actually getting my ass up to show her what else she can do, you know, re routing her to a more pleasant activity. Instead I’ve been harping and nagging to no effect until, absolutely frustrated, I show it in my body language and voice.

The low today was when she wanted to find her “tiny bunny” and I said, sort of exasperated, “well why don’t you look for it?”

“I can’t”

“Why can’t you?!”

“I CAN’T”

“Okay, I’ll look for it… … … well, it’s not in the basket”

“Yes it is”

“No…it isn’t”

“YES!”

 

So, I picked up the basket and tossed all the contents on the floor. Very grown up of me.

“See. It’s not”

Ok. You get the picture. Tired, irritable mommy trying to reason with her two year old and acting rather childish herself.

( I used to judge other mommies, when I wasn’t one myself, for looking so bored or irritated with their clearly gorgeous, darling, precious little ones. Now I get it. Apologies to all the mommies I ever judged. I was…way off base.)

So, that’s why I feel pretty rotten right now. Because that’s not me. Or, that’s not the mommy I want to be. I know, we make mistakes. I know, I am supposed to forgive myself and move on. But right now, I just feel bummed. I wonder if I can do better. I am feeling really unqualified for the job right now. If it were any other job, I’d seriously consider quitting. This shit is HARD. But I suppose I’ll struggle on.

Goodnight.

Can I get an amen?

Okay. I am just going to say it and I hope you, or some of you, are with me, “motherhood makes me feel like a schizoid”

I mean, the highs and the lows, all within a matter of moments makes my brain spin. One moment I am up staring at my gorgeous kids, ready to make them the “best breakfast for my sweetie pies” and the next I’m like “here, fine, just eat that bean you found on the counter from last night if that’s all you want” never mind the quiche and finely sliced pears that I’ve set before you.

My husband doesn’t get it. I am the most unstable woman in his eyes now. He doesn’t ask why, he just gets the heck out of dodge. And I try to explain, I really do. But then I get caught up in berating him for something silly like, “you too?! You too?! Don’t I have enough tiny socks and clothes to pick up off the floor, do I really have to pick yours up too?”

Mamas and stay at home daddas, help me out here. Is it not the most amazing and awful thing to be a full-time care taker for a toddler and infant? I mean, there are times when I sit on the play-room floor as my toddler implores me to build yet another Duplo tower with her, I just want to scream ” I CANNOT F%@$#ING DO THIS!!!!” The guilt is incredible. My friends and family come to visit and cannot get enough of my kids, want to get down with them and play. How? Show me the way. I cannot get the energy to want to do this endlessly. Okay, I have some enthusiasm at first, at the beginning of the day when my coffee is all warm in my belly, but man does it quickly fade. The repetition. Gah.

And then my sister-in-law sent me this: Mother Rage

And I scanned the interwebs and found this:The Secret Price of Motherhood

Was there ever a set of articles written right for me in this very instant? Whether its knowing I’m not alone or that I’m ‘not quite as bad as that’, I got my amen. How about you?

 

Momsker