Have you ever had a day that you don't even wish you could start over, it was that bad? Today has been that for myself and Monster 1. It was an ear splitting, jaw clenching, hair pulling (wishing it wasn't my own I was pulling), sit-me-in-a-corner-and-let-me-cry kind of day.
Now before I start my next few statements please let me make it very clear, I would NEVER harm my children to the point of abuse or emotional damage, or even murder if you want to make it extreme.
I just think about it.
I know, Mother of the Year, right? What kind of mother even thinks about physically harming her own child? The good kind who don't actually do it. The kind who can channel inner patience, without giving in to the spasms of pain threatening to be unleashed from their bare hands. In the wild some animals eat their young, and no one looks at them in shock. So please remember that I have not done that yet, and a criminal I am not. In fact, I think I'm normal. I truly believe at some point EVERY mother has a moment like I had today.
My oldest Monster is strong willed, passionately enthusiastic about her favorite things, creative, loud, and bossy as hell. She can lie to your face and truly believe what she says. She can make you believe that she is going to do what she says she will do, even though in the back of your mind you know she won't. She can commandeer her sister into doing things that Monster 2 would never be creative enough to think of on her own. (Sorry, it's just true. But hey, Monster 2 is younger so there's still potential) Basically, one day, if she puts her brains to it, she will become the best damn politician this world has ever seen. It makes me proud.
Except when she uses all those skills at once.
When the curtains get pulled off the wall.
Every plastic plate and cup is lined up on the living room floor. Which will have to be rewashed because they've been on the floor. Adorned with napkins and straws that can no longer be used because they've also hit said floor.
When every hanger is pulled off the rod in their closet, because they have been climbing on top of the dresser (which is IN said closet) to reach them.
When you find kitchen chairs pushed up to the counter and a fly swatter has been craftily used to reach the Walmart bag full of Easter candy above the refrigerator.
When every blanket and stuff animal off their bed has found its way to the kitchen floor.
Colored pencils are sticking out precariously from between the couch cushions for some unsuspecting victim to sit on.
Note cards and bottles of paint have been lined up to taunt and make you wonder if you're going to some day soon find a wall with pink and purple fingerprints on it.
When they are playing outside, and wait for you to be checking on the plants you have growing, and they run off to the side of the house and start climbing on the A.C. unit.
Where was I you ask? Cleaning up the previous mess each time they ran off to make a new one. Or hovering over the toilet. Or curled up in a ball crying.
It's days like these that I am not a proud mother. I am a barely restrained mother who has to control my hormonal and unbalanced temper.
I am a mother who for half a second can understand the disgusting people out there who have snapped, and wound up on the news.
A mother who near cried in relief when my husband walked in the door and saved our children poor precious lives from being locked in their room forever.
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