Keeping it real.
Someday I will write a theology of rage.
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Today I yelled at my child because she claimed that she needed a bandaid. She did not need a bandaid. I actually don't care if she gets a bandage or not. I just don't want to pick up those stupid white tabs off of the bathroom floor one (fucking) more time.
I also just told the girls that I was really struggling to not be angry and I requested they play peacefully in their room until I could get it together. They obliged.
I have since apologized to them.
They also stepped up- and out of my way.
The morning started out nice. We were all sitting in the living room reading books. But somewhere in the morning Thomas got fussy. He got the kind of fussy where he wanders around the house looking for Papa and when he can't find him he stands next to me and cries.
He cried when I wouldn't open a bottle of lemon juice for him.
He cried when he knocked the lid off of the top of the trashcan.
He cried when I wouldn't let him play in his poopy diaper.
He cried when playing in the water caused him to get wet.
He cried when I would not read him a book about concrete mixing trucks for the 45th time.
He cried when the chickens ran away from him.
Maybe all this crying causes me to be escalated.
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As compassionate and attentive to feelings as I can sometimes be I say, way too much, "please stop crying." Oh my God give me something real to cry about. When things are actually bad here I am fine. But it is all the little emotional stuff I struggle with....
My Dad used to say that he liked us more and more as we got older. I think that might be true for me too.
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Today in the midst of it I texted a friend who isn't afraid of being raw and angry.
I also took a moment while I was rocking a sleeping Thomas for his nap and thanked God for the blessing of his small little body. His giant spirit. And the privilege to mother him.
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More and more, in the context of realities in the world and in my own home I keep saying, "Every tremendous privilege is also tremendous work."
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Today I yelled at my child because she claimed that she needed a bandaid. She did not need a bandaid. I actually don't care if she gets a bandage or not. I just don't want to pick up those stupid white tabs off of the bathroom floor one (fucking) more time.
I also just told the girls that I was really struggling to not be angry and I requested they play peacefully in their room until I could get it together. They obliged.
I have since apologized to them.
They also stepped up- and out of my way.
The morning started out nice. We were all sitting in the living room reading books. But somewhere in the morning Thomas got fussy. He got the kind of fussy where he wanders around the house looking for Papa and when he can't find him he stands next to me and cries.
He cried when I wouldn't open a bottle of lemon juice for him.
He cried when he knocked the lid off of the top of the trashcan.
He cried when I wouldn't let him play in his poopy diaper.
He cried when playing in the water caused him to get wet.
He cried when I would not read him a book about concrete mixing trucks for the 45th time.
He cried when the chickens ran away from him.
Maybe all this crying causes me to be escalated.
---------------------------------------------
As compassionate and attentive to feelings as I can sometimes be I say, way too much, "please stop crying." Oh my God give me something real to cry about. When things are actually bad here I am fine. But it is all the little emotional stuff I struggle with....
My Dad used to say that he liked us more and more as we got older. I think that might be true for me too.
---------------------------------------
Today in the midst of it I texted a friend who isn't afraid of being raw and angry.
I also took a moment while I was rocking a sleeping Thomas for his nap and thanked God for the blessing of his small little body. His giant spirit. And the privilege to mother him.
----------------------------------------
More and more, in the context of realities in the world and in my own home I keep saying, "Every tremendous privilege is also tremendous work."
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