After my second tantrum (or third) of the day. No, actually, of the morning, seeing as, it’s just barely the afternoon. I hung up the phone, although pressing end on a cellular call doesn’t make as much of an impact as being able to slam the phone down on the hook. BUT. I got rid of my husband who was yelling at me as I was yelling at him. Yeah, it’s been that kind of day already. Another sick kid home. This kid can’t be left alone due to some emotional issues, so I couldn’t go in to work. Keep in mind, I had already been home for over a week with my youngest son who had the flu.
I headed over to Twitter to find friends to chat with so I could calm down. And, perhaps find a few good blog posts to read. Coincidentally, a blogger whose blog I’ve never read before called The Ohana Mama posted a link to her Momversation post that included Jessica, Finslippy and another blogger. They were discussing having Mommy Tantrums.
I got so excited. Because doooooood…helloo!! I have them. All. The. Time. Not only that but, I’m presently in the throes of one doozy whooping mother of a Mommy tantrum!
It’s so NOT uncommon in my house for me to have a Mommy tantrum! Yelling. Screaming. Slamming doors. Throwing things…soft, of course. And not AT anyone. Except maybe my husband.
One HUGE thorn in my side cause of my having a screaming fit is over dinner. When the brats decide that they don’t like what I’ve made. And they sit at the table, whining about the hunger pangs. Despite the fact that there is a perfectly delish dinner, steaming hot in front of them.
Pisses me right off.
I’ve been known to go into the garage, which is through the kitchen, and scream. Loudly.
Or, how about finally, break is over. The kid that had been sick for over a week…is healthy again and will be going back to school. I am healthy again, after being sick for days. And the day all the kids are supposed to go back to school…
And the highest maintenance kid is home sick.
What else is there to do besides send threatening texts and emails to my husbands cell phone. Call my mother constantly, whining and screaming to her about how unfair life is and how badly you want to run away.
Or how about when every single kid in the house is saying a different variation of my name. All at once?! And they all want m to answer them. All at once. And the only thing I can do is SCREAM, shrilly, telling them all to shut their fricking mouths and the next one to say my name is going to get a mouth FULL of pepper. Because today, your name is a bad word worthy of having their mouths washed out.
How about this? When my husband, after playing poker every weekend…with a major losing streak, every weekend…tells me Thursday that he is having cards at our house on Friday. Not to mention that I am so sick of him playing poker. Plus, I don’t like when it’s at our house because of how late it lasts and it keeps the kids up late. Making my work as a Mommy go into double overtime on a Friday night. Because the kids refuse to settle down and go to bed, leaving me to blog and Twitter. At least I have Twitter! When really? Friday night, late night, should be WAY past quittin time and a quarter to lovin’ time…hubba hubba.
I don’t know about you but…I get FUMING mad. I cross my arms over my chest and don’t lift a finger to help clean up the dining room table where the cards will be played. I smugly look at the mess of laundry that covers the wood top. I think to myself…FUCK HIM.
And I go off and slam the door to the bathroom.
My family witnesses my having conniption fits and tantrums.
My kids know that Mommy gets mad. They know that, no matter what, Mommy gets over being mad and still hugs, kisses and loves them. Even if they are the ones that made me angry.
They also know that Daddy has tantrums also. And boy, does he ever. But, like Mommy, they know he loves them always and forever too. Regardless of how mad he was.
Kids can’t be completely and utterly sheltered and coddled. Because then, they grow up and have unrealistic visions of relationships and behavior.
Children need to be aware of the human side of their parents. Well…within reason. It’s one thing for them to see tantrums. It’s completely another for them to see, say…what goes on behind closed and padlocked doors when the parents are making up after the tantrums…