Piss and Ketchup

This is probably one of the most honest and embarrassing blogs I have ever done. But can I be real for minute?

This just in, I am not the perfect mother. I am so far from it. But if you were to ask my family, my husband’s family, my friends and even some people that follow my Facebook page they may tell you differently. Just because I always look happy and accomplished on the Internet doesn’t mean I’m always put together in real life. The truth is, my life is a shit show at least once a day. And those are the good days! What people see is loving pictures of me and my boys, me crafting, throwing awesome birthday parties, woodworking with my husband, vacations, my business ventures, funny videos of the boys, lots of smiles and lots of happiness. What you don’t see is my kids beating eat other with toys they altered to be weapons, me getting pissed on in public as Hudson decides to take a piss mid play ground, me losing my shit after asking the kids to put their shoes on for the 10th time or when my kids refuse to eat the meal I just made them and I turn into the beast from beauty and the beast!

Does anyone remember that YouTube video of the dad dressed like a mom running around with a vacuum frantically trying to clean the house because company is coming? Well I used to tag my mom in it commenting “mom this is totally you! Bahaha”. Now when I see it I laugh and say “this is 100% spot on, the struggle is real”.

25 years ago I was a 7 year old girl. I was a good kid for the most part. I listened,did well in school, but admittedly my brother and I fought on the daily and this took a toll on my mother. I remember thinking (and even preaching) that “I would never be a mom that yells like my mom, NEVER!” Well fast forward 25 years later and I find myself with mom rage. Not all the time but every now and then I have a flash back to my childhood. My mom yelling “because I said so” and “do you understand me?!” Is mom rage genetic? A result of learned behaviour? Or do we all suffer from this explosive frustration now and then. I have to believe we do.

I’m a pretty calm and happy person. I truly am. But so help me, there are days. Days where I feel like I’m failing. Days where I think I can do so much better. Days where I question it all. I love my life and my children mean more to me then life itself. But mom rage comes over me like a mentos dropped into a coke bottle. One moment I’m sweet and bubbly the next I’m foaming at the mouth. I yell, I don’t offer explanations, and I sometimes do or say things that I immediately regret.

When Hudson was 5 months old we struggled with sleep. I was exhausted and I felt like he owned every ounce of me. I just wanted him to sleep for more then 30 mins so that I could do laundry, watch Ellen or sleep. I remember rocking him to sleep for hours to only have him wake screaming when I put him down. I will never forget literally yelling at my little baby, “shut uuuupppppp, shut up, shuuuttt up!” I will also never forget the feeling of regret and failure that followed after. I sat on the floor by his crib crying and listening to him wail.

I recently bought Hudson his first Peddle bike. We have been taking him for rides on his balance bike for years preparing him for this big boy bike. We had big plans for his first peddle bike, he had different plans. We thought ok, let’s put the training wheels back on, he’ll learn how to ride on his own time. Well I spent night after night showing him how to peddle, how to manoeuvre his feet. Finally one day he said he wanted to ride to the park. I strapped on his helmet and off we went. Let me tell you, riding a bike, pulling a chariot at walking speed isn’t easy. “Hudson let’s go! Stop touching the brake! Faster Hudson, for the love of god!” My patience was about as thin as my hair 4 months postpartum. I pushed him too hard and my frustration boiled over. “Mama, my foot hurts, I don’t want to bike”. Well I was on my own bike and wasn’t about to abandon his on the side of the street. I yelled “biking isn’t easy, let’s go Hudson, I don’t want to hear you complain!” Hudson cried all the way home. When we got to the drive way I lifted him off his bike and could see blood on his foot. Tears formed in my eyes, and my heart sank. My poor little boy tried to tell me that his foot hurt but my frustrations with his effort level blinded me. I failed him.

Just last night I was reading stories on the floor before bedtime with my boys. My youngest, Forrest, was pulling the pages of the book I was attempting to read. They were ripping and I couldn’t get past the first two sentences. He kept trying to point to things and interrupting me. After 5 mins of this charade I re-actively slapped his hand out of the way, not hard but enough that I hurt his little feelers. He looked at me shocked and cried as if I had just told him candy is made from vegetables. Once again my heart sank. My little boy was just trying to communicate and was excited about this book but my patience had left the building. It worked hard all day and around 6 pm it boarded a plane for Mexico. I immediately felt ashamed. I hugged my little man and told him I was sorry.

Now that I have aired some of my shameful mom rage explosions I hope you have some comfort knowing your not alone. And if your reading this judging me or saying “I never do that” then I say your kids aren’t old enough yet or your not being completely honest with yourself. It happens to the best of us. I actually would like to think it happens to us moms who try so hard all the time. We spend all the hours in a day working hard to be patient, and loving. We are teachers, referees, chefs, snugglers, doctors, physiologists, maids, servants, plus our “full time jobs”. Oh and don’t forget if you have a spouse too! Does anyone remember that YouTube video about the fake job application? A man interviews a bunch of people describing a job that seems impossible only to reveal its the job of a mother. It bring tears to my eyes every time I watch it. It’s true. Our job seems impossible to others yet we do it! We accomplish so much and every now and then we get angry, sometimes irrationally so.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HB3xM93rXbY

And. That. Is. Ok. I truly love my children so much it hurts. But there are days that if they weren’t so dam cute I would drop them off at the Salvation Army.  And there are days that I just cant keep my cool while my son screams “maammaaa, mama, mmaaammmaaaa!” Like Will Ferrel in the movie w=WeddingCrashers, “ mom, the meatloaf!”

Like many Mother’s I feel guilty about this. Not all the time, but when my son looks at me shocked with tears in his eyes because I swatted his hand away, I feel very guilty.

This guilt has lead me to research how I can get my kids to listen, be respectful, eat their food, behave, not fight, not talk back, listen (did I already say listen?). I ordered this book called “how to talk to your kids so they will listen”, I subscribed to “aha parenting”, I have tried EVERYTHING under the sun to get my kids to eat (not excluding a functioning T. rex utensil), another book called your child’s love language, a book called raising boys and I have googled “what will it take to get my kids to f$&@ing listen!”

I learned a lot from these books but my big problem still resides. My mom rage rears it’s ugly head from time to time. It wasn’t until recently that I discovered why.

If you haven’t seen Ali Wong’s new stand up special, it’s very funny. She is a little pregnant Asian mom of a 2 year old. In one bit she talks about people asking her “Ali, who’s watching the baby? Don’t you think you should be home with the baby” to which she replies “I need to miss her to keep me from throwing her in the garbage”. There it is.

It’s not about how I can control or change my kids, it’s about me. What I need to make me a better mom. What do I need to feel more relaxed and better able to cope with my frustrations. Kids will be kids! Some listen better then others but generally speaking they are all little assholes who own our hearts. I need to take a break now and then, have a glass or bottle of wine here and there I need to miss my kids so I don’t donate them to the Salvation Army. Since realizing this I find myself choosing my battles a little more carefully. Just ask the young couple who, unfortunately, was grocery shopping the same time as me and my two off spring. I could see frustration on their faces as they had to navigate isle after isle as my boys created an obstacle course of cereal boxes and mini shopping carts. There was no escape and unfortunately for them I just shrugged my shoulders, took a swig of my Starbucks and continued on my marry way with a wake of mayhem following behind me. That day I chose bliss over mom rage and it felt good.

Next Time you see a picture of my cute family doing something awesome know that I am most likely
covered in human piss and ketchup. Choose your battles and recognize there is only so much you can do to teach your kids, it truly begins with you. Choose bliss over rage and if someone drops a Mentos into your coke bottle that’s ok. Your not the only one, you are not a failure. You are a mother.