mamma raptor.

Monday, February 20, 2012

oh, i just love it.
LOVE the rage-filled days that occur in the life of a woman/mother/wife.
the ones where unexplainable insanity takes over at the flip of a switch,
warping us in to three-headed, drooling, thrashing, velociraptor-like creatures.
{you see the resemblance, don't you?  totally has my eyes and flared nostrils.}
i have to laugh at the recent 'zen-like' post spewed forth from the innerworkings of my mind, heart and soul.
HA!
especially on a day like the day i had last week,
and a FRIDAY of all days, usually reserved in my home for all things lovely and free,
pancakes for breakfast, playdates, spontaneous trips with charlie, filled with calm and kindness, utter, UTTER laziness after a week of hard work, but also gratitude and appreciation for another week gone by of my mediocore-non-world-changing accomplishments, but a life lived as well as possible, seizure-free and floating through a lovely routine that's been working well for us.
so when i have THOSE days (note horrific creature above,)
which is, let's be honest at LEAST 1-5 days a month,
i feel like a sham.  completely the opposite of zen.
i am as uncomfortable and awkward to be around as a rectal exam.
you just close your eyes, breathe, hold on to something with white knuckles and wait for the violation to stop.
i googled the 'opposite of zen,' preparing to see an image of my hot, messy self. . .or an animal afflicted with mad cow disease.
a few things came up, but then i got impatient.
so let's just say it's war.  sound good?
war is the opposite of zen?
a state of war, no peace, on those days, a war waged against myself and anyone or anything in my path.
that lovely 'authentic' self i was trying to be?
hey, i told you, i'm not perfect and i'll share that too.
ESPECIALLY not this past friday.
where i sat, frazzled, huddled in a corner with a bar of dark chocolate,
for no apparent reason.
just wanting time to myself.
(as if i don't get enough already.)
time to nibble and lick my chocolate, sip a latte and talk on the damn phone for twenty minutes
WITHOUT a mother-loving interruption!!!!!!!
that's all!  that's all!
and THESE are the days, everyone else feeds off my nastiness.  dodges the drool, 
runs frantically to escape my fangs.
where no love is found.
my children and husband, at this point, having lived with me for 3-7-9 years, well, they know.
they know when to step up their game, be EXTRA sweet. . ."um?  mom?  what can i do to help?"  or jack.  "mom?  you need a hug, don't you?"
or, "honey?  why don't you go upstairs and shut the door."
or to try to lure me out of this state with the only thing that works sometimes,
chocolate.
but i ate all those.  so everyone's screwed.
so they know when to retreat, run and hide and come out when dad says it's safe.
sit at the table pretending to be lost in crayons, yet trying not to giggle at this looney for a mommy they have.
but ok, it doesn't come out of nowhere.
it comes from the unpredictable hormones of women, the complexities of our species
(which are SO annoying, even to me, a woman herself,)
topped nicely with a boatload of children and their little quirks.
and there you have it.  just the right mix of risk factors to create the perfect storm of rage in an otherwise, loving home.
it happens.
and it starts slowly these days.
i don't usually wake up raging.  in fact, just the opposite.
always thankful for a new day, good health, another morning to kiss little cheeks and breathe in sweet morning breath from my babies.
but THESE days, the crazy ones?  things go down hill quickly.
a 3-year-old peeing up, around, down and sideways, NEAR the toilet.  anywhere but in.
while i'm trying to make breakfast for a 5-year-old who's SO damn picky, takes 2 bites of the eggs and toast i've lovingly prepared for her and says she's full, leaving it to cool quickly in front of an empty seat while starving children would KILL for a plate of cold eggs and a mother that loves them and will do anything to keep them fed and healthy.
the ball is rolling and it's not even 7:30am.
while i'm scraping cold, uneaten eggs (angrily) in to the garbage,
charlie is spending quality time with toilet paper, unraveling the brand new roll i replaced pre-fabulous breakfast, into the toilet.
when i find him, "WHAT ARE YOU DOOOOOOINNNNGGGGG?!?!
he replies with the swipe of a sleeve across his little snot nose, dragging it across his face.
(p.s.  which i hate.  it's so disgusting.  and the kid knows how to blow his nose.)
"nuffing."
"NUFFING?!  NUFFING?!  NOTHINNNNNGGGG?!  THIS DOESN'T LOOK LIKE NOTHING?!?!  TIME OUT!"
i put him in his room, RAGING, not because of the snot thing,
but because, although he's 3, he knows better!
he's a smart 3-year-old.  really?   a WHOLE roll?!?!  
time out.  (more for his safety than for disciplining him, as the pot is bubbling.)
he was so quiet (=trouble) in his 'time out,' but i let him be for a bit so i could finish putting laundry away.
only to find he'd peed on cookie monster, his carpet, the pile of clean clothes i'd just finished folding,
as if to say,
"F U, mommy.  it's war.  two can play at this."
charlie knows better.  he's smarter than ALL of us.
on these days, he amplifies my mood, by acting out.
trying to call 'zen' mommy back in to existence with crazy scare tactics, doing anything that will get my attention.
it's not even 8am yet and now i have to battle with a 7-year-old that takes 12 years to put his shoes on, grab his coat and get out the door, while putting out the little fires that erupted from the land mines left all over the house.
brutal.
i can just feel it in my body when i'm on the brink.
like a pot simmering. . .you know if you don't remove that lid quick it's going to boil over, in to the flames, leaving more destruction, a burning smell and a bigger mess to clean up.
friday, was that day.
where no matter WHAT i did or how fast i moved or how 'organized' i thought i was being  with my time management,
i couldn't keep up.
with the laundry, the dishes, the overall cleanliness of my home,
my 3-year-old following closely behind, trashing everything in his path.
every blanket taken out, every hotwheel, every game piece.
playdoh containers and all their squishy inhabitants, strewn about, lego's. . .all shrapnel left for ME to clean up.
now, i have days, blissful days, you know this,
where i LOVE my children and soak up every last ray the sunshine bounces off their angel wings,
where i'm totally cool with all of it.
in fact, most days i am.
but this particular day and other days?
i just want the laundry done.
i don't want to have to scream to get my kids to listen.  (now my throat hurts.)
i just want a clean house.
i just want to talk on the phone with another adult. . .for an hour.
i just want to eat chocolate in peace.
"mommy?  what is that?  can i have one?"
"it's a blueberry.  and no."
"it's chocolate.  i want one."
"i don't know what you're talking about.  now go play."
i know you have those days.  you just want to be left alone.
for whatever reason. . .even if you had a lovely day the day before,
you just get stuck sometimes.
in the body of a prehistoric, carnivorous beast, who isn't above hunting, attacking and feasting on their young, just because they can.
and for me, it happens often.
the leniency of the NEW me, getting eye-gouged and fish-hooked by the old (yet, still ever present, mean and nasty, hormonal me,) who JUST wants control, order, a dust-free house and a pristine kitchen floor.
but i see clearly on these days too. . .the days where all hell breaks loose.
not anything startling, but all the things about being a human mother that are NOT pretty in any way.
my serious issues.  my cynicism, frustration at having to repeat myself 1800 times, my severe lack of patience and restlessness, wanting to be able to sit and play a game with my kids wholeheartedly, but instead spend the time planning all the things i'm going to do when this torturous game of chutes and ladders ends. . .clearly, not present at all.
these days too, show me time and time again, that the peace-filled world i try to create around my children, will not always be.
that i'm not perfect and that i don't have to try to be.
that all i can do, is try again.
accept the GLORIOUS GIFT we are given as parents, each new day,
of a second chance.
if we're REALLY lucky, a third, fourth sometimes fifth chance to do right.
as parents, despite how the morning played out, we get another chance to change the ending, change our attitude or simply apologize and move forward, lower our expectations to a more appropriate and realistic level, not only of our babies,
but for ourselves.
there are SO, SO many opportunities for growth in this gig, as a parent.
learning to laugh, not judge yourself, and learn from the day before.
and make up for it, in our house anyway, salvaging wounded spirits and tense mommies,
by hitting up the church of pancakes.
call it a wash,
find all the love and happiness we need,
not crammed in to mahogany church pews,
but the bucket seats of our sweet honda odyssey.

taking pictures of. . .whatever.

 the unique views of the sweet little place we call home.



just happy to be somewhere new.  with the little gang that is my family.
finding another chance in the arms of nature, to redeem myself as their mother,
showing them i'm really capable of so much more, reminding them to bear with me
which they do unconditionally and without question.
what a blessing.

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