must enjoy them now
drama just makes good stories
for when they are old
I find that lately I’ve been getting really caught up in being irritated by my children. It’s not really something I’m proud to admit, but it’s true. I spend all day feeling like they are purposely trying to turn me into Crazy McNutbar, and so I spend all day hollering at them to stop doing whatever they’re doing, which makes me seem like Crazy McNutbar, and then by the end of the day they’ve ramped up the irritating things they’re doing just to get a rise out of me and so by the transitive property I have BECOME CRAZY MCNUTBAR, the nemesis of Supermom and also the causer of binge eating caramel-infused Drumstick ice cream cones.
Of course, by the time they are both asleep I feel cascading waves of guilt for my behavior. I feel like I need to crawl into bed with the wee one and whisper apologies as he sleeps. "Mommy is sorry she doesn’t know what kind of ship Darth Maul has and that she rudely dismissed your question while she checked her email. Mommy is also sorry she got so mad at your sister she slammed the door with such force that the doorjamb cracked."
I try to tell him these things when he’s awake, but I am inevitably interrupted by a falling glass of orange juice or a dog being fed handfuls of sand, or a poopy diaper, or a toddler trying to rip out my jugular.
Why is it so hard to remove myself from the daily trials and just enjoy the kids for who they are? Why can’t I shake off the screaming and whining and be the kind of mom who distracts them with homemade volcanoes and from-scratch sugar cookies?
There is this nagging feeling that I am not spending enough time with either of the kids, even though I spend ALL of my time with them. I feel like I am not present. And to make it worse, I have this gut-feeling psychic intuition thing that not only am I not spending enough time with the wee one, I need to start doing it RIGHT NOW before he is lost to me forever. Or something. The gut feeling doesn’t tell me what the consequences will be. It just tells me that if I don’t start reading more to him and spending time with him in the evenings, something not excellent is going to be the result. And so I am wracked with worry about what this gut feeling really means and what it is all about.
I don’t know what the answers are to any of these questions. I don’t know how to fix any of it. Because when it’s happening – when I’m in the middle of the moment where the wee-er one is jumping on my stomach and pulling my hair and the wee one is asking what-if questions about the house turning into a rocket and blasting into space and hitting the sun – I can’t think to calm down and enjoy it. I just want everyone off of me and away from me and to quiet down and leave me alone.
I know other mothers feel this way, but it’s still kind of isolating to be driven crazy by your spawn. You know what I mean?
Also, Crazy McNutbar sounds like a candy bar I must have right. now.