I yelled at the kids today.
It doesn’t happen very often. I’m a pretty patient mom. My problem is that I tend to be patient, patient, patient, then EXPLODE when they least suspect it. I lull them into a sense of security and love, only to BLOW UP at random times. Now that’s good parenting.
Today two of the three were having simultaneous mega-meltdowns, while the third was trying to broker peace between them by screaming overtop about how everyone was WRONG, and this was after I’d asked them to do their homework about 20 times, and yeah. That was it.
YOU – find something to do on your own, I am not available to play right now.
YOU – pack up the toys and do your homework, NOW.
YOU – sit down and eat something, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.
Then I sat and fumed and felt horribly guilty while giving minimal homework help in a snappish manner.
The real problem is that when I do scream at them, they are all so, so very good. Everyone quietly does their work. Everyone gets along swimmingly. No one bothers me because they can’t find this one Pokemon card and they need that one Pokemon right now because it is their FAVOURITE Pokemon and they’ve already looked everywhere and there is no way I will find it in 30 seconds if I come upstairs.
So although I die a little inside from their goodness, and vow to never yell again, they do make it hard to turn away from that line of discipline, you know?
Making things worse, I watched The Princess And The Frog this morning with Little Miss Sunshine (she was home sick with a bad head cold). Neither of us had seen it before and (SPOILER) an adorable, sweet character DIES near the end.
This was super bad news as I am a crier, I cry at everything fictional, books, TV, movies, commercials for life insurance. So the character starts eeking out his last words, and the Little Miss is choking up a bit, and instead of comforting her I start weeping, WEEPING, as if the world will be ending any moment now.
So she sweetly tucks my hair behind my ear and ever-so-gently strokes my head and murmurs that everything will okay, don’t cry mommy.
MOTHER OF THE YEAR, right there.
Hm. Uncontrolled weeping followed by irrational screaming.
How many more years until menopause, again?