That Mom

Disclaimer: The following post was written in a flurry of "last days of summer distress", mostly just to vent, not knowing if I'd ever hit the "publish" button. However, I've been seeing this sentiment all over at your places the past few days. You have given me the courage to share the not so pretty parts also. Thank You. From the bottom of my heart.

I never wanted to be that mom.

I believe everyone has their own version of that mom. For me it is the harried, tired, grumpy and disheveled woman screaming at her kids in the car while it is parked at a stop light. Flames may even be shooting out of her eyeballs while she is doing it. She is that mom. I am not. Until today.

I said things to my children in the car today that I can't take back. I said a very bad word. I said something to them that I tell them not to say. I yelled at the top of my lungs to the point where I felt as if I were recovering from strep.

I am at the end of my rope.

After my rant, all I could think about was how stupid I was. How I shouldn't be so impatient with my kids. How I just had a whole night all to myself and how could I feel this badly so soon after it. What is wrong with me?

Who knows.

Motherhood is hard. Even when they aren't babies anymore. It is really, really hard some days and I believe it is so hard you sometimes feel like you are going to crack. Sometimes you just feel like you are, and other days you actually do, like today in the car. And you have to be given permission for this. You have to. You also have to apologize after you've said that really bad word. That, is the not so fun part.

I am not perfect. I cannot be rational every single second of every single day. When I have asked a carload of children to use their manners and keep their voices quiet so I can concentrate on driving and not steering the car into on-coming traffic so many times I've lost count, I am allowed to loose it - a little.

I don't know what it is, but this year, this summer has seemed to be the hardest yet for us as a family. I expect Katie to be a certain amount of work because of her age, but the boys? They should be getting easier! Instead, they are getting pushier in their wants and needs. At the same time, they are becoming fun to hang out with (when they aren't sulking or whining) and a sheer joy to spend time with. But they are LOUD, oh so loud. Louder than they have ever been before and like puppies, they don't know how to be the least little bit graceful when they run through the house, causing every piece of artwork hanging from the wall to fall with a crash to the floor. Well, it isn't that bad, but almost.

So I send them outside, and tell them to blow off some steam. We have plenty of balls and playthings out there so I figure it is a no-brainer, until I hear the screams and yelps. Because tackling your brother and holding him in a headlock is so much funner than actually using your basketball hoop or skateboard. And I find myself yelling some more, but I try to be sneaky about it so the neighbors don't hear me. And the boys act "normal" for a few minutes before deciding to sit on their scooters and wear the rubber off the bottom of their shoes on the hill outside our house. Ugh!

I know school will start soon and we'll have all this time apart, and I know that I'm just worn out from their constant . . . everything. But I'm telling you, if next summer is anything like this one, I will have to leave the country - or they will, because I don't think we'll survive!

I just don't want to be that mom anymore. And I don't think they want me to be her either.