restarting the clock.

Failed.

I know everyone slips up, but I feel like a failure… again.  I made it exactly a month without yelling and it felt great.  Now I remember why I wanted to stop – this is a sad, pathetic feeling.  So by January 7, I’d already messed up on my most important resolution.

I’m certainly not trying to justify it, but I want to remember it.  I want to remember the way I felt afterwards for inspiration to do better next time. It was our fourth day of being snowed in, which in itself was not a bad thing. We’ve had plenty of toys and games and movies to keep busy.  Plenty of food eat and no reason to brave the scary roads or arctic temps.

Things took a turn for the worse yesterday when the boys refused to take a nap. They just played and goofed off in their room for 2 hours. By that point it was already almost 3pm so I wanted to keep them up for a decent bedtime since it’s back to real life today. By 5:30, Dexter was asking for warm milk (which means he thinks it’s bedtime). He was falling apart at the seams. Theo was fine until we turned his movie off and transitioned to the library for story time.  He chose a huge Marvel encyclopedia and had Ryan talking to him about different characters for 10 minutes while I read two books to Dex.  By the time we finished up, Theo had decided the Marvel book was “boring” and wanted to choose two new books.

Uh uh.

No.

We told him he could choose one other book, but that he’d made his first choice and was not bored with it for 10 minutes so that counted as one of his picks.  He started crying immediately, whining that he didn’t like it and that it was boring. We said ONE BOOK. He said two. One. TWO! And so on.  Finally it turned into us saying zero books, at which point he really lost it.  We ushered him towards his bedroom and bathroom to start brushing teeth, etc. and he ran into his room and started hitting a canvas picture on his wall. I raised my voice and said “Stop!” out of caution and alarm but he continued. The picture fell off of the wall and hit him on top of his head (don’t freak out, it weighs a few ounces). It startled him but didn’t hurt him.  I grabbed it as it was falling and put it back up on the wall.  I picked Theo up by his armpits and carried him down the hall to the chair in the corner. Sternly but calmly, I said “Time out for hitting your picture!” and sat him in the chair. I turned my back to set the timer and before I could turn back around, I heard things falling over the sound of his screaming. He was standing on the chair, pulling papers and pins off of the bulletin board.

That was it. I don’t know why that set me off. I don’t know why that put me over the edge. I don’t know why I snapped. But I did.

I’m not even 100% sure what I said. All I know was that I was in his face, shouting, and I couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t even think about not yelling or try to prevent it.  I’m sure there are a million things I could have done differently, like just let him have the dumb 2nd book from the get-go.  But that’s what I did.  I got in my little boy’s face and yelled at him. Because I’m bigger than he is. Because he made me mad. Because I can’t manage my own emotions when I’m tired… yet I expected him to.

Fail, fail, fail, fail.

Normally when he’s in time out, we will start the timer and walk away so we are not giving him attention, but I knew I couldn’t trust him.  I stood and watched him (towering over him of course — why, why, why didn’t I just sit down?). He cried. He begged for 1 story. He said he was so sorry.  He begged me, “talk to me, mommy! Why won’t you talk to me?”  But I remained silent.  I waited for the timer to buzz and asked him why he was in time out.  He didn’t even remember. He said “because I said no.”  I explained to him why he went to time out and why his behavior was dangerous.  He continued crying throughout tooth brushing and getting into bed.  He cried while I sang Dexter 4 bedtime songs and declined when I offered to sing him songs as well.  He cried that he wanted to sleep with us.  We told him we were not ready to go to bed.  He said he didn’t care and that he just wanted to sleep in our bed.

This is when the gut-wrenching “what do I do” thoughts crept in.  Is he crying now because he’s still tired? Because I broke his heart? Because he’s scared (from the movie he watched)? Is it a stalling tactic to stay up longer? Is it attention-seeking?  Would it help or hurt us in the future if we give in?

I kissed him and told him goodnight and left the room.  Ryan stayed and talked to him a little longer but the crying continued.  Ryan came out and it wasn’t long before we heard through the monitor “daaaa-deeeee! Daaaaa-deeeeeee!”  Ryan went back and laid with him until he fell asleep. Compromise I guess.

I shed a few tears.  I feel really sad and guilty about it. I’m disappointed in myself not only for yelling, but for only making it one month without yelling and only 7 days into 2014.  I’m moving on. Today is a new day.  Today I will not yell.  I will review my alternatives to yelling and try something new when I begin to feel frustrated. Every day is a learning opportunity.

The Orange Rhino says:

Changing is hard.
Not yelling is hard.
Making a promise to do the above, is hard.
Mistakes will happen.
Moving forward and achieving my goal will only be harder if I don’t forgive myself along the way; if I don’t love myself along the way.
So love myself more, forgive myself more, I will.
~C~

missing my dad.

I have felt on the verge of tears for a few days, unable to really pinpoint why.  Just on edge – emotions running high.  I thought it was just exhaustion. The weather. The holiday rush and stress.  Finding that perfect gift for each of 15+ people on our list. And the money for that perfect gift.  My dirty house eating away at me, because everyone in it has been sick and I haven’t had time to do the dishes, let alone dust.  Not getting to go visit my family last weekend because of the illness. Plans getting cancelled left and right because of snow. Or sickness. The weight of this time of year. The disappointment of everything that’s gone wrong recently. The changes that have happened this year in our family and longing for the way it used to be. Always questioning if I am doing the right thing, if I am parenting the best way I can, if I’m meeting everyone’s expectations. My own expectations.  Relationships that have changed or gone away. Friends that have changed or gone away.  I miss blogging regularly but don’t even know what to say anymore.  And then there’s winter.  Stupid, stupid winter. Not running or exercising because I can’t find the time. Fear of failure. The boys crying at drop off. Again.

Tonight, Theo was asleep on the couch by 6:30 (not feeling well – AGAIN). Dex passed out as soon as I put him in bed. Ryan asleep by 7:15 (not feeling well).  By 9pm I couldn’t hold back anymore and the big, hot, stupid, salty tears were pouring down my face. For no reason, for every reason.  I felt the need to see my dad, so I walked around the house looking for a picture of him.  Sat here, staring at him. He would have been 62 today, if pancreatic cancer hadn’t stolen him from me over 6 years ago.  I can’t remember how long it’s been since I cried over my dad but now I can’t stop.  I miss him.  So.  Much.  So much has happened and my life has changed in so many ways since the last time I sat down and talked to him.  I wish I could see his hands.  Be on the receiving end of one of his big hugs.  Just to hear him say he loves me one more time.  It feels good to let it out.  Now I just want to feel better and get on with these happy freaking holidays.

xo,
~C~

it was a circus, alright.

I got an email back in July offering advanced ticket sales for the circus, which was in town this past weekend.  As December grew closer, I began looking forward to taking the boys to the circus and watching their faces light up with each act, more fascinating than the one before. 

Saturday morning rolled around and Ryan and I briefly discussed how to tell them about the circus without putting much thought into it. We agreed to simply say that we had a fun surprise for them. Instantly, they were excited. They cooperated through the process of everything that has to be done to just get out of the door and we were on our way by 10am.  During the short drive downtown, Theo asked repeatedly what the surprise was.  “Is it a toy?”  “Is it a Lego?” “Are we going to a store?”  “Are you taking us to the Lego store?”  We answered “no, this is a different kind of surprise – a show.”

When we arrived at the arena, Theo asked what this place was called. I told him and he said “I hate this place.”

Ohhh. Kaaaay.  Cool.

They were of course captivated by all the obnoxious toys and other overpriced sundries around every corner. We found our seats and started right off with some very affordable (no, I’m kidding) cotton candy.  I thought this would cheer Theo up and get him in the mood for the show.  Once the show started, it held their attention for moments at a time.  For the most part though, Theo asked every few minutes if it was over, if it was time to go, or if we could go home yet.

One of very few photos taken at the circ-tastrophe.

Dexter watched more of the show than Theo did. I feel like Dexter watched more of the show than I did. I was either taking someone to the bathroom or trying to manage someone’s embarrassing/ungrateful/obnoxious behaviors.  Total fail.  Complete disappointment.

I wasn’t the only one that felt that way.  In the car, Theo started whining and complaining about every little thing.  It was only a matter of time before he started directing his mood at Dexter.  I take issue with this because it happens all too often and Dexter is undeserving 95% of the time.  Theo was calling Dexter mean names and Dexter was starting to complain and whine too.

I couldn’t even tell you how many times we asked Theo nicely to stop before he flipped our switches and Ryan and I both SNAPPED.  I yelled at him.  Ryan yelled at him.  He was crying and yelling, Dexter was crying and yelling.  Ryan told him not to say another word the rest of the way home (maybe 5 minutes tops) and he continued to scream “I WANNA TALK!!”  By this point every one of us was upset.

We got the boys inside and eventually to bed for their naps.  I leaned against the counter in the kitchen and cried into my hands.  What a failure.  The circus. This day. This parenting.  It’s far from daily, or even weekly, that I freak out and yell at my kids but when I do, I hate myself for it.  I know it happens. I know it’s pretty normal. I also feel disgusted and guilty about it.  How can I expect them to express themselves appropriately when I am screaming at the top of my lungs in an attempt to get my point across?

As they slept, I started thinking.  My Mother-in-Law texted me to ask how they liked it.  I explained that they (mainly Theo) were not as impressed as we’d hoped.  That he must have thought “surprise” meant something else. A toy. A new Lego.  She said my nephew Spencer was the same way around that age and thought he was getting a Thomas the Train car if someone said “surprise.”  At that moment I realized that some simple thought and explanation could have done two things: 1 – Prepared them for what we were getting ready to do and 2 – Prevented this whole, big, dumb, stupid mess.

I read an article maybe 6-8 weeks ago that has stuck with me.  Someone had posted it on Facebook. The title caught my attention and has remained in my mind ever since then. 10 Things I Learned When I Stopped Yelling At My Kids. Please take a moment and read it if you haven’t already. I can relate to so many of the bullet points that this author shares.

After the circus fiasco, not much time passed before I witnessed a father yelling at his daughter for breaking a glass at our mutual friend’s party.  He didn’t really “flip out,” for lack of a better term, but it was enough to give me that bad, sad feeling in my stomach.  My instant mental reaction was “hey dude, I know that you’re embarrassed that she did that but she’s just a kid, she’s your baby girl – and you sound a little scary right now.”  PAUSE.  Reality punched my face.  Yeah.  If I thought he was a little scary, then what in all hell do my kids think when I unleash my frustration on them in the form of yelling … when no one else is watching?

Holy crap.

I can stop yelling.  I know I can.  I don’t yell at them in public. I want strangers to believe that I’m a loving mom. I don’t yell at them in front of my friends.  I want my friends to believe that I’m a loving mom. The boys sure don’t stop pissing me off in public or in front of my friends, so I’ve figured out some coping skill to refrain from showing my poor parenting choice when I have an audience. I want to be that loving mom when it’s super hard and my only audience is my most important audience – my boys.  I don’t scream at adults when they upset me.  Why do I think it’s okay to let my emotions run rampant on my own flesh and blood – precious, tiny little humans that I chose to willingly and lovingly bring into this world?  Puke…I can’t do it anymore.

All else taken into consideration – yelling doesn’t help.  If the kids are yelling, me joining in only escalates the situation.

I want to stop yelling.  I have to stop yelling.  I will stop yelling. I’m making it my biggest priority in 2014.  I will make it 365 days without screaming at my kids.  Join me?

xo,
~C~