My struggle with mommy rage

I feel like I need to apologise for my lack of blogging. I feel like I'm being a bad bloggy friend. I promise I've been reading your blogs, I just haven't felt profound, or inspired, or even remotely funny - all things I try to do when I blog. Just part of my goal to pretend that I'm cool like that. I have planned on writing some posts requested by some comments. I've done a lot of mental drafts, just haven't sat at my computer long enough to do more than that.

But this post got me thinking today.

Like Besty, I struggle to decide where all my anger comes from. As my siblings can attest - I had a lot as a teen too, especially certain times of the month. I remember how great it was when I got my own room, and could just hide in there for a week. Everyone was so much happier when I could withdraw myself from life, including myself.

But I haven't struggled this much with my temper since I hit 20. So why to I go from mildly upset to a lunatic in 3 sentences?

I really did NOT like the idea that mommy rage could be some form of "buyers remorse." I love my kids, and have never once regretted the decision to have them. I have however really hated their actions, or my reactions to them.

Yes, I have a raving demon within me. Personally, 90% of the time it’s manifest because of the kids - something they did. For me I don’t think it’s ever been “buyers remorse”. With me it’s all about control.

Think about it: for the past X # of years, you were in control of everything you did. You decided where you wanted to go. You decided what to wear. You decided who to play with, what to eat, how to behave. Especially after high school, you had almost complete control over everything in your life.

Did you want a clean room? That’s your job. Did you want straight A’s? You can control that too. Hate the feel of your place? Just move somewhere else. Your success (or lack of it) was mostly a product of your effort.

Having kids changes that completely. No matter how much I clean, someone else is there to mess it up. No matter how much I play with my kids, they want more. No matter how nice I am to them, they will fight with each other. I no longer have complete control over the environment I live in. I can be as nice and wonderful and clean and perfect as I can try, but these other creatures inflict their own wants and needs and emotions directly on my life.

For me the monster usually surfaces when that control is completely lost - kids trying to kill each other over a toy, painting walls with diaper contents, breaking something after they’ve been told to leave it alone. I still want the control over my life I had 5 years ago.

But the joys of having my children are worth taming this monster. To hear them giggling together as they have a water party in my basement, even when it's over our very nice new carpet - isn't that worth the effort of cleaning it up? It's only water. Or watching them discover a strange new bug - does my need to get milk really demand them to come this very second away from the fascination?

At the end of the day, when all is said and done, I am happy to be a mom. There is nothing more rewarding. My lack of control over myself (let alone everything else), is very disturbing to me. But since one of the reasons we are here is to gain control over our bodies, I just have to keep on trying. Eventually, I will be able to let the frustrations roll off my back with ease. There IS a good chance that that will not happen until my kids have left the house and aren't there to test it so frequently. But I won't give up trying until I succeed. Because I owe it, to my kids, to my spouse, and to me.

A momentous occasion

At last it has happened. I've been waiting for this for years. I've checked over, and over, but until now have been denied this opportunity. But finally I can rejoice with those around me.

I haven't posted for a while because I was partying in Utah. Had some HORRIFIC non-rev adventures (like 27 hours in DFW, with two hyper pre-schoolers and myself that had to go find a bathroom every 30 minutes), an AMAZING fun time at my high school reunion, a blast playing with my sisters and nieces (and the one nephew I saw), re-connected with some amazing friends, and got the best hair cut I've ever had in my life (thanks sis!).

It was because of that haircut that this momentous thing has happened to me. A life long goal has been accomplished. This sense of completion has filled my being.

I discovered my first gray hair.

So, in case you haven't noticed, I'm weird. Really. In all honesty, I really am happy to find this little hair. I've been expecting a gray hair for years now. My mom was really young when she started going gray (mid 20's I think). That could partly be the 4 kids she had in 4 years by the time she was 24. I thought I'd follow her footsteps. I have a sister that found a gray arm hair when we were in high school. Several times I thought I'd discovered one, only to be disappointed and decide it was a blond highlight. But there I was, standing in front of my mom's mirror playing with my seriously cute hair, when it popped right out. Totally gray. And about 3 inches long. Obviously been hiding for a while now. I love it.

I have never dyed my hair in my life. My biggest reason: I'm too lazy/cheap to keep it up. And I really hate the way it looks when dye jobs are growing out. My mom wasn't allowed to dye her hair. My dad had a thing for pure white hair and really wanted my mom to get that way asap. I kind of like that attitude. And if I don't dye it, I'll never be one of those weird 72 year old ladies with pink hair the end of the month and shocking auburn 3 days later.

So here I am. Rejoicing that I'm all grown up and produce gray hairs all on my own. It really gives me this little sense of satisfaction.

'Cause I'm weird like that.

Writing to relieve my guilt

I am prepublishing this so far in advance I'll probably forget all about it by the time it comes out (hah! yah right!)

You see, today something occurred that has left me filled with guilt. Racked with torment. In endless agony. Well, not really. But I feel like it should.

Because I'm pregnant.


Yup! After 23 months of wanting to be, it finally happened.

But today (June 9) I'm only barley six weeks along. I've only known for 3 days. The only person in the world that knows is my husband.

And my dentist.

Yuck! My dentist is the next person I get to tell?!?!?!? Before my friends? Before my family? BEFORE MY MOM!?!?!?!?!?!?

But I had a dentist appointment this morning. And they wanted to take Xrays. But they first ask if any medical conditions have changed so they are still safe. So I had to tell them the news.

But man. As much as I like the guy, he wasn't the next person I wanted to tell!

Sorry Mom. You know I wanted to tell you next. But most likely I'll end up telling Happy Mom, since I'll need her recommendations for a new OBGYN. Since my first appointment will need to be just a few weeks after we move across the country. (insert feelings of apprehension here)

And I really, REALLY hope I told everyone in my family before this comes out. But if I missed you, please don't be offended. Just know it's my crazy mommy brain coming out. Again. And I still love you more than my luggage.