I’ve been writing a lot about “fitting it all in” – managing as a wife, a mom, with a full time job and a side business, while still making time for fitness. But let’s talk for a moment about the word “managing.” What qualifies? What standard do we have to say we are actually keeping all the balls in the air? Is it enough to keep your children alive, feed them and get them out the door on time for day camp?

But what if what it took to get there was becoming a screaming lunatic for the two hours before you head out the door? And what if you had to head BACK home after dropping them off, so you could finish all the things you had to do before leaving for work because you weren’t able to get them done earlier?

This was my morning.

The little man was ON FIRE from the moment he woke up. And my nerves were very raw. We had a deadline to get out the door, or their day camp bus to the waterslides would leave without them. The pressure was on. He wasn’t doing anything I asked, doing the opposite of what I asked him to, tormenting his sister, not getting anything ready, talking back, and all the while making that NOISE he makes that actually gives me a visceral reaction. It’s a high pitched half-siren tone that he makes at the top of his lungs. There is something about this noise that sets me on edge immediately. I can’t take it. It actually hurts my ears and gives me anxiety. And of course it is the noise that makes him feel good. Well, crap.

Let’s just say, this morning, I wasn’t “managing.” I was straight up losing my shit. I was an angry, screamy mom-ster. At one particularly heightened moment, he said to me “stop being so bossy.” To which I unleashed “IIIIII AAAAM THE BOOOOSSSSS!” at the top of my lungs. It actually would have been a little bit awesome, if the front door hadn’t been open because I was also trying to get the garbage and recycling out.

I didn’t swear. I didn’t throw things. But oh, how I yelled. I got the garbage out. The kids were fed, dressed, bags packed, healthy lunches packed that they actually ate, teeth brushed AND sunscreen on. Nobody cried.

But I definitely yelled.

I don’t want to be a yelly mom. I want their memories of me to be awesome, playful, loving, and full of nuggets of confidence-boosting wisdom. And I hope that for the most part, that’s what they get. But once in a while, when the pressure – self-inflicted or otherwise – gets to be too much, yelly mom comes out.

What I really need to work on is following my own instructions. If I had said half the stuff I was saying to the kids this morning to myself, I probably would have done a lot better. If I had given myself a timeout, things would probably have felt more under control.

Mommy needs a timeout. Mommy needs to take a few minutes alone, thinking about what she’s actually upset about. Mommy needs to breathe deeply and CHILL THE F OUT.

The trick is remembering to do this in the moment, instead of as I beat myself up on the way to work. I guess that trick will be for another day.

Onwards and upwards.

 

PS – this meme makes me feel like I am not alone in this:

 

 

Here is a video I shared on my Facebook page about what happened this morning: