BUT MOMMY CAN WE PUT BLUE SPRINKLES ON TOP?

i had an enlightened moment today. i'd been feeling guilty (again) for yelling at my beautiful children so much this weekend (again) when i was single parenting (again) and when robb came home and asked how i'd fared, i went all tragic, 'i screamed so much and i told anna to shut up once. oh, god. i'm awfuuuuuul!!!' and then i cried in the kitchen and then i went for a run. 

the first half of the run i continued my chant of how much i suck and how i hope the kids don't remember me as this awful, harsh, fun anchor and how they might be better off without me. 

and then the sunshine and the snow in the trees and a few minutes of peace, alone, listening to Fergie with my endorphins working and started thinking...G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S...and also....when robb asked me that question, it was in a clean house, both kids, fed and fine,  were sleeping, i had fared. this weekend, taking care of 2 toddlers by myself, i ALSO made a pot of soup, read a million books, had a snow ball fight with the snow snot that fell out of the sky and hit my front yard, and took them to the farmers' market AND library. i made pancakes AND we made and decorated Christmas cookies. 

the cookies. 

so, what gives? why am i hating on myself so much? because i was stressed out the whole time and i just KNEW the kids could feel it. but what are the facts?

so, yes, they watched a lot of movies, they ate only carbs (did you see the thing about the pancakes AND cookies, and also there was some white bread from the farmers' market, OK STOP JUDGING, IT WAS HARD. THEY ARE MEAN) and we fought over meals. and i a little bit threw a chair (at no one). and when we lost the apple TV remote we almost had to move. and somehow potato chips ended up spilled in the bathroom. and when henry saw me cleaning in there he was so alarmed by the strange site, he got confused and thought we were going to make the cookies in the bathroom, maybe? 

floor below the cookies. 

but why don't i focus on what i did well?? really. WHY?

and can i change the narrative in my head so i feel like less of a failure?

last night after the kids and i had a collective melt-down and bedtime was pushed forward and cookie decorating pushed back to the next day and everyone cried....and then everyone talked....and then we read books and then they were falling asleep....i was still panting from the trauma of the fight, but they weren't. they were fine. in fact, as i'm rocking and sucking my thumb in the chair in the corner of their room, pretty sure i'm the most despicable mom of all time second maybe only to joan crawford, henry whispered, BUT MOMMY, CAN WE PUT THE BLUE SPRINKLES ON TOP? 

he was just worried about frosting his cookies. 

he'd forgotten all about the fact that i forced him to eat poison quinoa soup and that i'd scared him when i a little bit threw that chair. 

i have to believe two things, when we all survive to the other end of this kid/parent thing.

1) i'll be left with the impression that they were adorable

2) they'll be left with the impression that i was wonderful

i say that confidently because my parents only talk about how great i was when i was small and i KNOW i was a bossy, snotty piece of shit much of my childhood. K. i know. you don't have to hide it. 

also, my mom has told me all the ways she was impatient and frustrated and freaked out and failing us when i was a little kid and i remember....none of it. i mean, none. not once. not once do i recall my mom being anything but loving and put-together. i know it happened. logically, it must have. she was taking care of 3 small children, one with major health issues and a developmental delay. she must have had terrible days. and i also know that she chewed ice and fretted constantly. but i only know that stuff because i've processed it as an adult. leaving childhood, i just felt like she thought us three kids were the bee's knees and that she was thrilled to be our mom.  and, ultimately, we all turned out to be functional, happy big kids/adults. (twitch twitch) so, basically she nailed it. but she didn't know it at the time, but hopefully she does now. i'm thinking i get that. 

another revelation is that these kids are different with mommy than they are with daddy. and how. 

robb's been noticing for a while that they'll shout for me, across the house, while sitting in his damned lap. he's like, "what are you doing? i can help you." and they're like, "OH." 

and i don't want to speak for all moms/dads, but in our experience, this mom gets the fiercest attachments with the most intense moments of intimacy, but also is the brunt of their most asshole-i-ness. 

i never don't have a wound on my face from anna's claws. i never don't have a wound on my self esteem from henry telling me hates me or him not listening to me as i beg him to do something. i really hate feeling inconsequential. and somehow my self worth is tied up into how they treat me. instead of just assuming he's a schmo who needs to be more respectful, i take it personally and also think maybe his bad behavior is a reflection on my piss-poor parenting? 

but, after last night, when i couldn't help but debrief on the rough day, he said, TOMORROW WILL BE A BETTER DAY. AGAIN. 

:) again. because as far as he was concerned, yesterday was super. ;)-

i have to believe they won't remember all the yelling that i do. all the swearing under (and sometimes over) my breath and the look of panic on my face all of the time. 

just like eventually, soon, probably, i won't remember the total anarchy of having two toddlers trying to kill me. i'll forget how they refuse every meal i ever try to feed them but want snacks constantly and i'll forget being held hostage in their bedrooms an hour after we started the bedtime dance, trying to remember how native americans snuck up on deer in the woods (on the balls of their feet? heels? nope. balls) while i creep around the floor creaks trying to get out with my life. 

i have to believe eventually they won't shout all the time and will actually sometimes quietly listen. i have to believe they get that i love them even as i'm losing my shit. 

it might not be until they have their own kids that they'll understand how hard i fought to stay positive and kept fighting for their wellness and my sanity, my marriage, and our family.  

“Pour yourself a drink, put on some lipstick, and pull yourself together.” -Elizabeth Taylor

if you guys are ever reading this....henry james and anna kirsten....i love you. i've always loved you. i'm trying. 

and i'm sorry about that chair. 

it had it coming. 

My Fuck-Off List This Week (I'm Not Grumpy, You Are)

1. daylight saving time.....i can't even look at you. 

2. people (older, mostly) who stop me and the kids in the store all the time to say, "enjoy this time. kids grow up SO fast. cherish every blessed moment! it'll be over in a flash.' 

really. REALLY? last night my son stepped on my daughte'rs back and gave her a bloody nose. this morning, she bit his nipple and left teeth prints on skin through 3 shirts and then ran into the middle of the street, again. i'm actually trying to erase those memories from my mind as quickly as i can because i want to feel affection toward my offspring instead of intense fear/moderate resentment.  if i 'cherish' and dwell on all the things that these two violent tyrants do, i will end up locking myself out of the house, on PURPOSE this time, or going fetal and not coming back. 

look, i get that when you have grown kids, you'd give ANYTHING to have them tiny and cute again for a day, to hear their sweet thoughts and to be able to fix all their problems with your hugs. i respect that. but it is downright rude to dismiss how profoundly exhausting and anxiety-inducing and frustrating it is to have little kids. i mean, it is NOT for the weak. so don't make me feel guilty for having hard days, for crying in my car sometimes. because, look, old lady, YOU DID, TOO. 

i'm crazy in love with my kids and would run through fire for them. but i've been around long enough now to be suspicious that these little a-holes probably started the fire in the first place. 

being "mommy" is amazing. but "mommy" is only said with a sweet smile on top of footie pajamas some of the time. they other times it's screamed, it's whined, it's demanded, it's repeated in inhuman rapid-fire sequences without stopping for breath. it often is said with just the right tone that it clearly implies, MOMMY, YOU'RE FAILING ME. AGAIN. 

last night when we were 15 minutes late to a 30 minute karate class (#mailedit), i was screaming at the baby who was screaming at me and arching her back and refusing to get into her car seat because that's how we do, and henry reproached me with, YOU SHOULD SAY YOU'RE SORRY. WE'RE ONLY SUPPOSED TO YELL AT BAD GUYS. 

sigh. (breathe 2-3-4. you're right, buddy. i'm sorry. now tie your karate robe tighter, i can see your nipple wound).

they're worth all this guilt, and stress, and fear. of course they are. they're huge blessings. without a doubt. and i don't forget for a minute what a big fat miracle it is that they're here and they're safe and healthy and get to live with me in my house. BUT it's all there. you can't act like it's not part of the deal. i think it's totally OK to acknowledge that this is the best and worst of times. 

it's like when i got into PA school. i was so grateful and so excited, because it was hella competitive and a total honor just to be there in the first place, and i was geeked about the potential for a wonderful career at the end, but the middle part was HARD. it was sickeningly hard sometimes. i did not have fun most days. i ground my teeth down so far, i had no choice but to become a vegetarian. ;)

i was both being maxed out in both my excitement and my stress. and that's what this kid thing is like, too. sometimes i think my heart might explode from how much i love them. but then other times i'm just convinced they're trying to kill me. 

3. people (again, mostly older) who act like robb, being a dude, is some kind of war hero because he shows up as a parent. 

right now he's gone for 2 weeks on business. this is no big deal, right? the womenandchildren left behind can fend for themselves, right? that's always how it's been. men are kind of figureheads for the home anyway, they don't play an actual, real role, right? this is kind of the attitude we've encountered. this is just sexism, and i've talked about it before. it's not how it works anymore. him being gone is a big problem because he's half of our workforce. 

you know i don't want to applaud him for doing laundry. i'll thank him privately. we attempt to be aware and grateful for each other's efforts. (we often fail). but it was discovered by science a while back that penises don't actually get caught in the mechanisms of washing machines or dishwashers and men, can, in fact, do housework. it's also been found that both sexes can balance checkbooks, mow lawns, and soothe crying children.  he does half the home stuff and makes half the money, i do the other half. that's it. when both spouses are working outside the home, the inside the home stuff has to be split up or someone will get shivved. i don't make the rules. i just know how to follow them.  and it's pretty old-fashioned (read: shitty) for people to assume that because i'm female i'm MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY 1st and full-time PA 2nd and because he's male, he's employee 1st and DADDY 2nd. instead, we're together, both trying to give our kids the #1 spot with this sort of MODDY figure and also attend fully to our careers. we'll see how it goes. for now, pass the wine. 

herumph. 

4. sadness and grief. 

ain't nobody got time for it, but i'm still in all kinds of aches over all the people i've lost this year. shit. stop dying, y'all. i'm running out of chocolate. 

5. fundamentalists being jerks and making it into the media. 

i don't even. i can't. i mean, really. all religions. all sectors. just stop. whatever text you follow, i guarantee you there's a message of love in it that's repeated more often and louder than whatever bit you're clinging to that is leaving you self-important and violent. please re-focus. 

this week there's a loud mouth Christian author making the rounds right now about how wives owe sex to their husbands and giving men techniques to 'biblically claim' what is due them. (hashtag rape)

that's one of a million examples of similar stuff that makes me vomit in my mouth and makes me feel distant and cold to what is supposed to be the source of my warmth. 

i've reached out to some friends who believe in God to help me figure out why people are so mean to each other if they supposedly have this loving God on their side. they're wise and kind and i appreciate them holding my head up for me when i can't. 

-----------------------------------------

that's it for now, i guess. i could complain about the bad drivers in the farmers' market parking lot this morning, but no one expects smart cars full of greens to be driven well, right?

thanks again, for being my therapists. if you charge by the hour, then, uh, this took me 15 minutes. :)