Epic motherhood disaster. Brought on by a tiny, three-foot minion who has the uncanny, almost otherworldly ability to get up under my skin and kick around in there. All was going well enough until moments - moments!! - before leaving the house for our day. And then all hell broke loose. So many disasters ensued. Multiple altercations, multiple calm downs, multiple pull over the car on the side of the highway incidents, multiple get myself and my other minion out of the car so we could escape the wrath of the acting-insane one. Lord Jesus. Finally dropped off the kids at daycare. Tried my best, "Honey, what were you so mad about," only to be rejected in my parenting-book-inspired tactics, AGAIN, and then of course, they could not be happier for the daycare lady. Which is fine. Because I would not wish on her what I had just gone through - could not afford the cost of care for that.
Then a good 45 minutes of hearty self-flagellation in the car while driving back to work, a spiraling down the black hole of despair while crying hysterically and wondering what the fuck have I done with my life and why do I have no mothering skills whatsoever, after studying and babysitting, nannying, and caring for the children of others - rather successfully - for 38 years before having my own. Now I am 5 years into the experience of caring for my own tiny dictators and I still have no fucking clue what I am doing. And yes, I read every book, watched every episode of "SuperNanny," and followed every technique from the doctors and social worker and even the smug teacher.
Ugh.
Does everyone feel this way?
"The precious angels!" says everyone else. And I think....who are they talking about??
So now it's 8:34, and it's time to start MY day. And out of my 100 energy unit allotment for the day, 93 have already been spent just getting here. Sooooooooo.....good luck with that.
~out.
Then a good 45 minutes of hearty self-flagellation in the car while driving back to work, a spiraling down the black hole of despair while crying hysterically and wondering what the fuck have I done with my life and why do I have no mothering skills whatsoever, after studying and babysitting, nannying, and caring for the children of others - rather successfully - for 38 years before having my own. Now I am 5 years into the experience of caring for my own tiny dictators and I still have no fucking clue what I am doing. And yes, I read every book, watched every episode of "SuperNanny," and followed every technique from the doctors and social worker and even the smug teacher.
Ugh.
Does everyone feel this way?
"The precious angels!" says everyone else. And I think....who are they talking about??
So now it's 8:34, and it's time to start MY day. And out of my 100 energy unit allotment for the day, 93 have already been spent just getting here. Sooooooooo.....good luck with that.
~out.
1 comment:
Oh, Ally, I'm sorry you have to struggle through this period of your toddlers' lives. But yes, as a mother who worked when her children were young, I can tell you, yes, these meltdowns are "normal" at age 3-1/2 -- sometimes they had a bad dream the night before and can't express it, sometimes they are "punishing" you for leaving again for the day. And yes, every mother feels anguished with self-doubt. But NO, do not doubt yourself. You DO have the necessary mothering skills -- and I've seen them grow and mature over the past 5 years. These crazy incidents just happen in the early stages, and they will get less and less as the years go by. So sit back and breathe, get some perspective, and realize you're doing way better than most mothers would in your situation. Take heart -- you're doing fine. I'm very proud of the way you're raising Jack and Lucy, and I know they are growing into beautiful, smart, loving human beings. You're doing it!
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