Mom to the Screaming Masses

One of the things

One of the things I hate about being an adult, not to even mention being a parent, is the fact that you really can't have a good, quality temper tantrum. One of those things that doesn't necessarily make a bad day any better, but helps to relieve some of the stress that is coursing through your blood. Yesterday was just such a bad day. I woke late, after sleeping poorly. Can't even blame it on the baby, who is a really good sleeper. (As a side note, she has started needing to have a good cry about 9 or 10 - she cries for about 30 minutes, and is totally inconsolable, and then drops off and sleeps well.) My kids were all grumpy, and G has become a wild man. He won't walk when he can run, throws himself off the sofa into flips, and loves to aggravate E non stop. All day long, I heard her crying again and again. The two biggest were fighting non-stop, and consequently lost their gamecube privileges. (yeah, we got one, and I already hate it. We limit it lots. I hope the excitement wears off soon!) To top it off, it started to snow.

Snow for a kid is really cool. Playing outside, building a snowman, throwing snowballs - you really get a chance to let off some steam, and I think that's really important for kids. But snow for a mom just, well pardon my french, but it just sucks. There is no other way to say it. Snow tracked in the house, with a side of dirt when it melts. Lots of wet laundry. Icy roads, so we can't even go out to get a bite to eat or roam the stores. Well, we could, but growing up here my whole life I have almost zero experience in driving in snow and ice, and I don't want to chance it. I know that our four inches of snow is really no big deal - relatives from NY scoff at our struggles. Give us a hurricane, though, and we are at our best!!

So, my mood just got blacker and blacker last night. My hubby took the kids out sledding - we are the only people around who have authentic flexible flyer sleds, and a van big enough to carry the neighborhood, so when it snows we have a million kids here. They came back about 2 hours past bed time, two crying, one yelling, and one happy as usual - M. Then it was up to me to get everyone in bed without damaging their minds any further. I REALLY could have used a temper tantrum about then. I fantasized about dropping to the floor, pounding my feet and really letting loose with a good howl. I held it together, though, and got everyone to bed. Hubby and I watched a movie - Johnny English, very funny, but NOT for kids - which improved my mood somewhat.

I think all adults should be allowed a tantrum, at least once a week. Kids seem to have it down pat - get mad, let it all out, and move on. Maybe there would be less physical violence in the world if we were all allowed to be a kid once in a while.

Today is a new day - let's hope it's a better one! Hubby is off work, so that is a positive right there!

Why is it so

Why is it so hard to be wrong?

I really have a hard time with this, and I don't think I'm alone. Why do we perceive it to be a character flaw if someone doesn't do something our way, or disagrees with us? We think ourselves infalliable. As an example, I am *always* hot. I rarely wear a coat, unless it's under 20 degrees. I do put coats on the kids, and hats and gloves. Despite that, my husband frequently complains that I am not dressing the kids warmly enough. It's not an attack on my character, so why do I perceive it that way? I usually end up arguing with him, when I should just stop for a second and think - are they dressed warmly enough?

The same idea goes for food. The way that a person makes a certain dish is always the *right* way. You make, for example, chicken enchiladas, and the way that you make them is the best. Am I right? Then, you go to someone's house, or a restaurant, and the same dish is prepared differently, maybe with a red sauce instead of a cheese sauce. It's not wrong, just different.

We have a priest at our church who is very, well, I guess loud and enthusiastic. Very in your face. Not my style at all. It's taken me a while to decide that he isn't wrong, just different. That's not to say that he is my favorite priest, but he does make you think.

It's really an issue of vanity, to think you are correct all the time. And it's a fault that I can clearly see in others, but have a hard time seeing in myself. How to find the mirror that will let me see myself as others see me? I frequently wonder exactly what others think of me, and yet if I was to find out I'd probably be so mortified that I'd never step foot from my house again.

Emma was napping, after

Emma was napping, after an incredibly grumpy morning. She had only been
asleep an hour, when I heard Gabriel upstairs and her crying. As I went
upstairs, I met them coming down. I asked Gabe why Emma was awake already.
He said, "Simple. I slapped her."

Talk about a way to wake up.