I've witnessed a strange phenomenon today. This morning did not begin like a "usual" morning and for some reason that one act has had a butterfly effect on the entire household. I don't believe anyone is truly mad at anyone else in the house (at least not anymore), but we're all being short with each other and there's this almost palpable stress in the air which is heavy. For me, I actually feel physically exhausted carrying this stress and that's after an hour massage. I don't feel stressed, it's just what's in the air and it's oppressive.
I suppose the conclusion is that issues need to be discussed at the earliest possible time to "clear the air" (which after today has a new meaning to me). In our house, that has yet to happen, but I'm sure it will sometime soon. And then I'll be able to feel an actual weight being lifted off. I wonder if there is a way to lift this weight off yourself? Do you really need the other person involved to help? I guess you do because in weight training you should always have a spotter, why would stress weight be any different? I'm rambling, it's giving me something to do. I should probably go "clear the air", but I'm trying to decide if now is the best time. Trying to gauge how long it will take versus how long I have until company comes over. Maybe as a social experiment, since it's gone on this long, I should let it go and see if it affects company as well as household members. Think I could receive a grant to study this?
Friday, November 12, 2010
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
It's all in my head...or on it?
I'm currently suffering through a bout of lividness. (Wow, apparently that really is a word as my spell check didn't tag it!) I'm angry. Angrier than a beehive that's been thrown to the ground by a honey hungry bear. And that's not my usual demeanor. I'm normally patient, kind, mellow and laid back, but I can actually feel my blood pressure rising. Probably not a good thing. In fact, I want to throw something, stomp through the house, break things, punch things do anything to relieve some of this pent up anger. But since we're going through the whole teaching the children responsibility and maturity, it wouldn't behoove me to go ranting and raving through the house. Not such a good example of responsible maturity. So, I've decided to try blogging to release some pressure. In order to effectively blog about one's anger one must analyze it.
Right off the bat, I'm angry with Hubby. How dare he be able to sleep so peacefully. Can't he see the world is actually upside down right now and I need him to help turn it the right way up? I ended all my games, my facebook, my email, basically unplugged from the online world so we could spend our designated one hour together and I was able to have 21 minutes before he was out. We will eventually make it through the book we're reading together. Anyone have young children you need to put to sleep? I'll record my voice for you to play to them because it's so soothing they'll be out in no time...or 21 minutes to be exact. I just needed some time with him to unwind. To take a deep breath and have someone take care of me and my needs. But, upon further analysis, that's not really fair of me. I mean, he's tired. He worked late, didn't even have a chance to come into the house when he came home because we were all in the van waiting for him to drive us to the kids' activity, grocery store, dinner, etc. When we finally straggled back in from all of that, his time was spent with kids brushing teeth, homework, general getting ready for bed routine. No wonder he crashed. I might have, too. My conclusion on the Hubby anger: yes, I feel a little neglected, but my anger began way before that and it is always easier to take it out on the one you love most. In truth he deserves his rest, he works very hard for us. He's off the hook and I'll quit mentally cussing him out.
Hey, I think this is helping. Where were we? Oh, yeah. I was angry before I even saw Hubby. What else happened. I knew Hubby was going to be late tonight, so I was supervising the homework/chores solo and was on my way to prepare dinner. I reached up for a pot and noticed they were askew. When your children are responsible (I'm using this term lightly under the current circumstances) for cleaning the kitchen, it is not too unusual to see things not quite up to snuff. I reached for the pot, grabbed it, started to pull it down, when in a slow motion moment, I see the heavy pot lid gracefully flutter down coming to rest ever so gently on my head. NOT! That sucker is heavy and combined with gravity I don't care how hard of a head you have (and I have a hard head or at least I've been told I'm stubborn so I'm assuming it's the same thing) it hurts like the dickens!! Instant welling of tears, horrible headache, I stagger into the bedroom and just cry. (Note to self, if you're going to drop pot lids on your head and cry, make sure you don't watch a tear-jerker movie like Toy Story 3 earlier in the day. The double crying jags do nothing to make your eyes pretty.)
Once the pain had subsided enough so that I could make a coherent sentence come out of my mouth, I round up said children and ask who put the pots away incorrectly. I should learn of course that a mother who has been crying can look pretty scary, especially to the child responsible, because they all suffered with instant short term memory loss and had no clue which one of them did it. I asked each of them how to put the pots away the right way and they could all answer correctly. Someday I'll get a grant to find out where in the child's body the correct way of doing something gets lost from brain to limbs. Anyway, I then lose it. Start crying again and let them know that the chore lists took a long time to create. They were designed to make it easier on them. They just have to start at the top and work their way down the list. In turn this makes it easier on the parents as we don't have to sit there and babysit them while they're doing the chores. On and on. And on. I'm pretty sure they heard, "Blah, blah, blah, sniff. Blah, blah, sniff, sniff." Not one of my better moments, but I didn't yell and still maintained some semblance of outward calm even with the raging headache.
I proceed to fix dinner and serve them. I let them eat without me as I had no appetite and was looking for some sanctuary I could escape to. That only lasted for a few minutes. Thing 4 is a creature of habit and enjoys family meals and the sharing of the day. She came in and asked me in her really sweet, angelic, cute way to sit and visit with her while she ate. And since there was no way she could have been responsible for the pot lid mishap, how could I break her heart and say no. I joined her.
Of course by this time the other 3 were finished eating and moved on to after dinner chores one of which is put your own dish into the dishwasher. Thing 2 neglected to do this, so Thing 1 went to his room and asked him to put the dish in the dishwasher so she could finish the kitchen. He said he would when he felt like it. This went on for a few more verbal jabs when Thing 1 gave up, slammed Thing 2's door and stomped into the kitchen. I calmly leave the table, enter Thing 2's room and gently grab him by the ear, have him stand and send him to the kitchen. I promise, it was gentle and I said not a word (I'm patting myself on the back because I was still showing restraint and patience!). A mere 15 minutes later we're in the van awaiting Hubby. He did ask me after we dropped them off why they were so quiet in the van. Needless to say it was a somber evening before he showed up.
Turns out I don't have a bump on my noggin, I have a dent. Not sure if that's better or not. But in the anger analysis, I'm now willing to chalk this day up to a lost cause or better yet, a lesson in venting anger. No point in letting the anger continue to fester and ruin tomorrow, too. Because it's true what they say, no one can make you angry, you choose to be. Right now, I'm choosing to be sleepy.
Right off the bat, I'm angry with Hubby. How dare he be able to sleep so peacefully. Can't he see the world is actually upside down right now and I need him to help turn it the right way up? I ended all my games, my facebook, my email, basically unplugged from the online world so we could spend our designated one hour together and I was able to have 21 minutes before he was out. We will eventually make it through the book we're reading together. Anyone have young children you need to put to sleep? I'll record my voice for you to play to them because it's so soothing they'll be out in no time...or 21 minutes to be exact. I just needed some time with him to unwind. To take a deep breath and have someone take care of me and my needs. But, upon further analysis, that's not really fair of me. I mean, he's tired. He worked late, didn't even have a chance to come into the house when he came home because we were all in the van waiting for him to drive us to the kids' activity, grocery store, dinner, etc. When we finally straggled back in from all of that, his time was spent with kids brushing teeth, homework, general getting ready for bed routine. No wonder he crashed. I might have, too. My conclusion on the Hubby anger: yes, I feel a little neglected, but my anger began way before that and it is always easier to take it out on the one you love most. In truth he deserves his rest, he works very hard for us. He's off the hook and I'll quit mentally cussing him out.
Hey, I think this is helping. Where were we? Oh, yeah. I was angry before I even saw Hubby. What else happened. I knew Hubby was going to be late tonight, so I was supervising the homework/chores solo and was on my way to prepare dinner. I reached up for a pot and noticed they were askew. When your children are responsible (I'm using this term lightly under the current circumstances) for cleaning the kitchen, it is not too unusual to see things not quite up to snuff. I reached for the pot, grabbed it, started to pull it down, when in a slow motion moment, I see the heavy pot lid gracefully flutter down coming to rest ever so gently on my head. NOT! That sucker is heavy and combined with gravity I don't care how hard of a head you have (and I have a hard head or at least I've been told I'm stubborn so I'm assuming it's the same thing) it hurts like the dickens!! Instant welling of tears, horrible headache, I stagger into the bedroom and just cry. (Note to self, if you're going to drop pot lids on your head and cry, make sure you don't watch a tear-jerker movie like Toy Story 3 earlier in the day. The double crying jags do nothing to make your eyes pretty.)
Once the pain had subsided enough so that I could make a coherent sentence come out of my mouth, I round up said children and ask who put the pots away incorrectly. I should learn of course that a mother who has been crying can look pretty scary, especially to the child responsible, because they all suffered with instant short term memory loss and had no clue which one of them did it. I asked each of them how to put the pots away the right way and they could all answer correctly. Someday I'll get a grant to find out where in the child's body the correct way of doing something gets lost from brain to limbs. Anyway, I then lose it. Start crying again and let them know that the chore lists took a long time to create. They were designed to make it easier on them. They just have to start at the top and work their way down the list. In turn this makes it easier on the parents as we don't have to sit there and babysit them while they're doing the chores. On and on. And on. I'm pretty sure they heard, "Blah, blah, blah, sniff. Blah, blah, sniff, sniff." Not one of my better moments, but I didn't yell and still maintained some semblance of outward calm even with the raging headache.
I proceed to fix dinner and serve them. I let them eat without me as I had no appetite and was looking for some sanctuary I could escape to. That only lasted for a few minutes. Thing 4 is a creature of habit and enjoys family meals and the sharing of the day. She came in and asked me in her really sweet, angelic, cute way to sit and visit with her while she ate. And since there was no way she could have been responsible for the pot lid mishap, how could I break her heart and say no. I joined her.
Of course by this time the other 3 were finished eating and moved on to after dinner chores one of which is put your own dish into the dishwasher. Thing 2 neglected to do this, so Thing 1 went to his room and asked him to put the dish in the dishwasher so she could finish the kitchen. He said he would when he felt like it. This went on for a few more verbal jabs when Thing 1 gave up, slammed Thing 2's door and stomped into the kitchen. I calmly leave the table, enter Thing 2's room and gently grab him by the ear, have him stand and send him to the kitchen. I promise, it was gentle and I said not a word (I'm patting myself on the back because I was still showing restraint and patience!). A mere 15 minutes later we're in the van awaiting Hubby. He did ask me after we dropped them off why they were so quiet in the van. Needless to say it was a somber evening before he showed up.
Turns out I don't have a bump on my noggin, I have a dent. Not sure if that's better or not. But in the anger analysis, I'm now willing to chalk this day up to a lost cause or better yet, a lesson in venting anger. No point in letting the anger continue to fester and ruin tomorrow, too. Because it's true what they say, no one can make you angry, you choose to be. Right now, I'm choosing to be sleepy.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
What to do when you want to strangle the little monsters...
Alright, not as bad as all of that, but pretty much I've had it with Thing 2! I sometimes lose focus that it will get better. I sometimes lose focus that parenthood is hard work and that means sometimes you have to work hard.
Yesterday was one of those days. I do my parental duty and send them off to school with lunch money in hand. I'm thinking I'm doing great because I usually forget the lunch money at the beginning of the month. And not only did they have lunch money, I was dressed and ready to go workout. I was Super Mom...for one, brief, moment...in my imagination. The problem started when I went looking for the van keys. Looked in all the usual places starting with where they belonged working my way down to where they usually are. When no keys miraculously appeared, I thought about the last time I saw them. Ah ha! Hubby was the last one to drive the van...he must have lost them!
I search his coat and pants pockets. I look in the van (which is unlocked). Still no keys. I call him and ask if he saw them or perhaps put them in his computer bag...no such luck. But he was kind enough to drive home and bring me the extra van key so that I could make my chiro appointment and go shopping with my SIL (my workout was missed, but will be made up at a later date).
Then my SIL mentioned that Thing 2 went in the van to grab his sweatshirt (which is supposed to be taken out every time we come home, but that's a whole other story) to be dark for Halloween so he probably had the keys last. Back to searching, but this time thinking like a middle school boy. No luck, although I did take the time to open his window and air out his room. We figure we'll have to wait until he comes home from school to begin the inquisition, I mean questioning, so we continue with our plans.
Fast forward a few hours. Thing 2 arrives home from school and I ask him if he's seen the van keys. He immediately walks outside. I think great, he put them on the grill or the bench or the table, but no, he comes back inside and says, "I put them on the hood of Daddy's car." Really?!?!?! I'm thinking, the car that he's driven to work and back and then back to work again?!?!
Images of cartoon characters strangling their children flash in my mind, but I'm smart enough to know that my kids wouldn't bounce back quite the same so I take the high road and view it as an opportunity for a lesson in responsibility and maturity since just that morning he was peeved that I said he wasn't mature enough to have a digital camera.
I call Hubby to apprise him of the situation and he said, "Oh, that's what that noise was." Apparently on his way to work he heard something a lot heavier than the leaves fly off his vehicle. He gives me the general area he heard the noise, I round up Thing 2 (who at this point digs himself in further and mentions that I have keys so what's the big deal) and we take off in the pouring rain and wind to walk the busy highway to look for the van keys. After becoming drenched, we have found no keys and I'm fuming as he didn't even really help look, just acted like it was a leisurely stroll in the rain. Mistakes happen, but the fact that this child of mine is showing no remorse, no guilt, no anything is turning my face into the color of a ripe tomato.
We come home and I send him off to do his chores and homework. When Hubby arrives, we go back out and search a different area of the road. Still nothing. When we get back, Thing 2 is in his room because he doesn't like what's for dinner so he claims he had a big lunch and isn't hungry. Did I mention he's currently getting 2 C's in school? Anyway, in an effort to calm my furious brain, the wonderful man that Hubby is, explains that the child's brain is being taken over by hormonal aliens (my paraphrase, he was much more scientific about it, it just helps me to visualize my children are possessed rather than willingly behaving in such a manner) and he then changed the lock on the front door just to make me feel better. It helped, but I was still upset. This child is like Spirit the horse x 2! And I'm going to be the one to break him. And I will, but Hubby and I realized I wasn't in the right frame of mind at the moment to undertake this monumental task.
We're trying to decide what punishment should befall the losing of the keys. It's like a battle strategy. We currently have 3 battles going...the fight over food, the fight over grades, and the fight over owning up to your mistakes and saying sorry because in Thing 2's world everything is everyone else's fault.
Today with the battle strategy firmly in my head, I am ready to meet Thing 2 head on. I'm calm, confident and I'm going to win the war over the hormonal child. He will grow up to be respectful, kind and a productive member of society. So, 1st thing this morning before he could have anything else, he ate 2 bites of last night's dinner. Score 1 for Mommy! He's in for a long haul. I'm way more stubborn and I have the advantage of a battle plan! Well, at least with all this practice, I'll be a seasoned General in the hormone, pre-teen war when the next 2 hit it hard. :o)
Yesterday was one of those days. I do my parental duty and send them off to school with lunch money in hand. I'm thinking I'm doing great because I usually forget the lunch money at the beginning of the month. And not only did they have lunch money, I was dressed and ready to go workout. I was Super Mom...for one, brief, moment...in my imagination. The problem started when I went looking for the van keys. Looked in all the usual places starting with where they belonged working my way down to where they usually are. When no keys miraculously appeared, I thought about the last time I saw them. Ah ha! Hubby was the last one to drive the van...he must have lost them!
I search his coat and pants pockets. I look in the van (which is unlocked). Still no keys. I call him and ask if he saw them or perhaps put them in his computer bag...no such luck. But he was kind enough to drive home and bring me the extra van key so that I could make my chiro appointment and go shopping with my SIL (my workout was missed, but will be made up at a later date).
Then my SIL mentioned that Thing 2 went in the van to grab his sweatshirt (which is supposed to be taken out every time we come home, but that's a whole other story) to be dark for Halloween so he probably had the keys last. Back to searching, but this time thinking like a middle school boy. No luck, although I did take the time to open his window and air out his room. We figure we'll have to wait until he comes home from school to begin the inquisition, I mean questioning, so we continue with our plans.
Fast forward a few hours. Thing 2 arrives home from school and I ask him if he's seen the van keys. He immediately walks outside. I think great, he put them on the grill or the bench or the table, but no, he comes back inside and says, "I put them on the hood of Daddy's car." Really?!?!?! I'm thinking, the car that he's driven to work and back and then back to work again?!?!
Images of cartoon characters strangling their children flash in my mind, but I'm smart enough to know that my kids wouldn't bounce back quite the same so I take the high road and view it as an opportunity for a lesson in responsibility and maturity since just that morning he was peeved that I said he wasn't mature enough to have a digital camera.
I call Hubby to apprise him of the situation and he said, "Oh, that's what that noise was." Apparently on his way to work he heard something a lot heavier than the leaves fly off his vehicle. He gives me the general area he heard the noise, I round up Thing 2 (who at this point digs himself in further and mentions that I have keys so what's the big deal) and we take off in the pouring rain and wind to walk the busy highway to look for the van keys. After becoming drenched, we have found no keys and I'm fuming as he didn't even really help look, just acted like it was a leisurely stroll in the rain. Mistakes happen, but the fact that this child of mine is showing no remorse, no guilt, no anything is turning my face into the color of a ripe tomato.
We come home and I send him off to do his chores and homework. When Hubby arrives, we go back out and search a different area of the road. Still nothing. When we get back, Thing 2 is in his room because he doesn't like what's for dinner so he claims he had a big lunch and isn't hungry. Did I mention he's currently getting 2 C's in school? Anyway, in an effort to calm my furious brain, the wonderful man that Hubby is, explains that the child's brain is being taken over by hormonal aliens (my paraphrase, he was much more scientific about it, it just helps me to visualize my children are possessed rather than willingly behaving in such a manner) and he then changed the lock on the front door just to make me feel better. It helped, but I was still upset. This child is like Spirit the horse x 2! And I'm going to be the one to break him. And I will, but Hubby and I realized I wasn't in the right frame of mind at the moment to undertake this monumental task.
We're trying to decide what punishment should befall the losing of the keys. It's like a battle strategy. We currently have 3 battles going...the fight over food, the fight over grades, and the fight over owning up to your mistakes and saying sorry because in Thing 2's world everything is everyone else's fault.
Today with the battle strategy firmly in my head, I am ready to meet Thing 2 head on. I'm calm, confident and I'm going to win the war over the hormonal child. He will grow up to be respectful, kind and a productive member of society. So, 1st thing this morning before he could have anything else, he ate 2 bites of last night's dinner. Score 1 for Mommy! He's in for a long haul. I'm way more stubborn and I have the advantage of a battle plan! Well, at least with all this practice, I'll be a seasoned General in the hormone, pre-teen war when the next 2 hit it hard. :o)
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