I started a post this morning before I went on carpool duty that went something like this:
My-kids-are-wild-and-crazy-and-I-have-no-control-and-no-one-ever-listens-to-me-and-I'm-the last-person-on-the-planet-who-should-be-having-another-baby-because-I-clearly-stink-at- parenting.
As I did the Sandifur loop on drop-off patrol, I decided that wasn't very nice and I needed a dose of perspective. The behavior displayed last night at the Scout dinner can't entirely be their fault which means, drum roll please, it's partially mine.
WHAT AM I DOING WRONG?
I think I'm a relatively smart person. Not AP Chemistry smart, or world economic smart, but people smart. I have always thought of that as my strong suit. And I'm a TRAINED TEACHER for Pete's sake. With experience. I hold a degree in Early Childhood Education. So why am I such a moron when it comes to my own children?
These are the questions that woke me at up 1 a.m. last night and prevented me from returning to sleep. I tossed and turned (well, more like rolled and heaved) wondering where I've gone wrong and what I need to do to be a better mom. I tried to think of solutions logically and clearly and not get caught up in the emotions I was feeling. But then the crazy-raging-hormone emotions kicked in and I literally contemplated getting up and building myself my very own padded room. For awhile I had thoughts of my getting some terminal disease and leaving my children orphans, which is really fun at 3 a.m. Once I talked myself down from that ledge, I had visions of losing Sienna at the "Let's Party" store while picking out birthday stuff for Spence. I was finally pushed over the ledge after heaving my rotund body over and breathing a little too loudly which had Brad responding "what are you doing? Breathing like that?"
So I started bawling.
In his exhaustion, he did try to comfort me with a "is something really going on or is this just hormones and stuff?" Unfortunately, he was back asleep before I could reply.
At this point in my super fun night, Sienna came in crying that her throat hurt accompanied with a 103 degree temperature. Worry for her pushed aside any further crazy thoughts but here's my question: is this really just hormones and such or am I in fact losing my mind?
I hate feeling out of control. I hate thinking that my children spend their afternoons waiting for dad to come home because mom is such a grouch. But most of all, I hate not knowing how to do things differently. Any thoughts? I'll be working on my padded room while I wait to hear back from you.