Tuesday
Jun282005
The Good, The Bad...The Balance
Tuesday, June 28, 2005 at 05:36PM
From an entirely rational, objective, analytical, self-therapeutic, calm, clear-headed and fairly sane perspective, I can admit, six weeks into Summer Break and CAMP MOMMY, home with my wonderful children 24/7...I AM SICK OF MY KIDS!
And I'm quite sure they are sick of me, too.
I am a Mommy who really, really appreciates her time to work and get things done without having to nag and referee and entertain, and BE entertained ALL.THE.TIME. I am going crazy from the constant competitive refrain of "Mom, watch this!" "Mom, listen to my joke!" "Mom, LOOK!" "Mom, Mom, MOM!!!" Once in a while, I have to beg: "PLEASE, just for a few minutes, don't call me Mom! Just don't say the word--MOM is taking a break!"
Let's just list the woes (real and imagined) of Motherhood, get it out in the open:
While I'm on a roll here, allow me to elaborate: They never clean up after themselves! While I realize that's my fault, too, for not teaching them properly and consistently--I'm working on it, dammit! They walk out of a room, saunter out of the kitchen (snack in hand, mess left behind), hop out of the car...and I spend half-hour picking up, cleaning up, putting away, throwing away (they'd better not leave anything they care about--it's all garbage to me!); doing it myself, because most of the time (and I know this is the fatal parental weakness) it is easier to do it myself.
Oh, I can, and do, quite often, stop them short and firmly encourage them to pick up after themselves. Just because I don't sometimes, doesn't mean I can't--I know what buttons to press, the stimulus-response, the Evil Mommy Voice (accompanied by the Stare of Certain Doom) when appropriate and necessary. [sigh] It's a lot of work--the emotional energy of yet another battle of wills. I know how to push their buttons. Unfortunately, they know how to push mine, too.
The one time they do get along and cooperate together is when they are scheming and plotting:
"We can chase each other around the house three times before she really blows up."
"We can totally mess up the playroom, as long as we're not jumping on the furniture (or she doesn't hear us jumping on the furniture)."
"We can torment Tiger, as long as he doesn't scream!"
etc.
It is all a predictable cycle of events that plays out hour after hour, day after day. I'm sure Nanny 911 would have a field day visiting my home.
Before I leave you today, though, let's consider the alternative: What if, god forbid, I had no children? The Rebel Housewife would be pretty boring to read (and write!) without the constant frustrations and crises, the sparkle and spice of life with my little hooligans. They are my mission, my purpose, my life.
Or even worse, what if I had perfectly quiet, perfectly cooperative, perfectly-perfect-all-the-time children? No laughter, no light, no horseplay, no joking, no fun? Even in the worst moments, at the very breaking point of a rage so large I could never have imagined it--suddenly, the humor of the situation shines through, and saves us all (or else I give myself a TIME OUT and go hide in the bathroom for a few minutes). What the hell am I getting so worked up about? Furniture is just wood and cloth, paint is easy to repair, messes can be cleaned up; noise is life, laughter is joy, and the mischief--the mischief and unquenchable creativity, energy and activity are all signs of very bright, engaged, fun-loving kids, figuring out their world and their place in it.
They are learning. I am, too. They do occasionally, sometimes even without me saying anything, pick up and put away. They try to work things out together--mainly to avoid getting into trouble; still, they are learning the life skills of negotiation and cooperation. I am learning patience...and slowly, slowly, I am learning the beauty of being in the moment, the good and the bad, because this too shall pass, and so very quickly...
Day 27 Total = $13
(When things get really bad, and the weather is, too--McDonald's is the answer: Happy Meals, Playland, and cheap ice cream!)
And I'm quite sure they are sick of me, too.
CAMP MOMMY: 33 Business Days To Go...
I am a Mommy who really, really appreciates her time to work and get things done without having to nag and referee and entertain, and BE entertained ALL.THE.TIME. I am going crazy from the constant competitive refrain of "Mom, watch this!" "Mom, listen to my joke!" "Mom, LOOK!" "Mom, Mom, MOM!!!" Once in a while, I have to beg: "PLEASE, just for a few minutes, don't call me Mom! Just don't say the word--MOM is taking a break!"
Let's just list the woes (real and imagined) of Motherhood, get it out in the open:
- Self-sacrificing, completely unappreciated
- No matter what, it is never enough
- Unending complaints and whining (them, not me)
- Unceasing rivalry & competition
- Pestering, provoking, screaming, and squabbling (again--them, not me)
- And the MESS...
While I'm on a roll here, allow me to elaborate: They never clean up after themselves! While I realize that's my fault, too, for not teaching them properly and consistently--I'm working on it, dammit! They walk out of a room, saunter out of the kitchen (snack in hand, mess left behind), hop out of the car...and I spend half-hour picking up, cleaning up, putting away, throwing away (they'd better not leave anything they care about--it's all garbage to me!); doing it myself, because most of the time (and I know this is the fatal parental weakness) it is easier to do it myself.
Oh, I can, and do, quite often, stop them short and firmly encourage them to pick up after themselves. Just because I don't sometimes, doesn't mean I can't--I know what buttons to press, the stimulus-response, the Evil Mommy Voice (accompanied by the Stare of Certain Doom) when appropriate and necessary. [sigh] It's a lot of work--the emotional energy of yet another battle of wills. I know how to push their buttons. Unfortunately, they know how to push mine, too.
The one time they do get along and cooperate together is when they are scheming and plotting:
"We can chase each other around the house three times before she really blows up."
"We can totally mess up the playroom, as long as we're not jumping on the furniture (or she doesn't hear us jumping on the furniture)."
"We can torment Tiger, as long as he doesn't scream!"
etc.
It is all a predictable cycle of events that plays out hour after hour, day after day. I'm sure Nanny 911 would have a field day visiting my home.
Before I leave you today, though, let's consider the alternative: What if, god forbid, I had no children? The Rebel Housewife would be pretty boring to read (and write!) without the constant frustrations and crises, the sparkle and spice of life with my little hooligans. They are my mission, my purpose, my life.
Or even worse, what if I had perfectly quiet, perfectly cooperative, perfectly-perfect-all-the-time children? No laughter, no light, no horseplay, no joking, no fun? Even in the worst moments, at the very breaking point of a rage so large I could never have imagined it--suddenly, the humor of the situation shines through, and saves us all (or else I give myself a TIME OUT and go hide in the bathroom for a few minutes). What the hell am I getting so worked up about? Furniture is just wood and cloth, paint is easy to repair, messes can be cleaned up; noise is life, laughter is joy, and the mischief--the mischief and unquenchable creativity, energy and activity are all signs of very bright, engaged, fun-loving kids, figuring out their world and their place in it.
They are learning. I am, too. They do occasionally, sometimes even without me saying anything, pick up and put away. They try to work things out together--mainly to avoid getting into trouble; still, they are learning the life skills of negotiation and cooperation. I am learning patience...and slowly, slowly, I am learning the beauty of being in the moment, the good and the bad, because this too shall pass, and so very quickly...
Day 27 Total = $13
(When things get really bad, and the weather is, too--McDonald's is the answer: Happy Meals, Playland, and cheap ice cream!)
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