If you would have asked me a few weeks ago, I would have told you that my kids are really good. I know, everyone says that, and usually it’s not true. But with me, it is. Or at least, it was.
People always commented on how well behaved my kids were. Not hyperactive or loud, fairly shy and quiet, just the way I like it. Sure, I bitch about them and their neediness, but when it comes down to it, I was really lucky. They know I’m not a morning person, they stay away from my chocolate stashes and admit that I’m waaaay smarter than their dad.
When they did act up or have their moments, it was on a tag team basis. One at a time.
Lately there has been a change in the tide. One that I’m not happy about. They are ganging up on me in the greatest proportions ever.
He seems to get into more shit by the hour.
And the others? They complain. About everything. The cereal isn’t the right kind. Dinner sucks. This one sprayed body spray in that one’s eyes. He used all the hot water. She ate the last granola bar. I bought the wrong toilet paper. OMG. And that was just one hour. I freaked out, called them all ungrateful pieces of crap and fell asleep crying and playing Draw Something on my phone (I’m tenakim and my OCD is really noticeable, I take a long time to draw awful pictures that look nothing like the thing, but whatever, it calms me.)
I’m seriously having a hard time keeping up. Their poor behavior is just piling on another thing that I can’t control.
I have issues with control. I need it. But lately, I’m unable to keep it. I’m losing grasp. I have always been able to keep things going, but I’m not handling it well anymore. If I had a dollar for every person that told me to relax and just let some things go, I’d have like $10. Eleven if you count my doctor who told me the same thing as he was upping my Zoloft yesterday. So I bit the bullet along with a frighteningly large dose of antidepressants and last night I took a big step in the right direction. I let my daughter make brownies for her friends for school.
The whole time my mind was racing, there’s going to be eggshells in that batter, she’s not mixing it up enough, she used too much oil, she is TOTALLY going to drop my pan and then I’m going to have to clean that shit up. But I stayed away. We/she made it through, she didn’t drop the pan, she got a stomach ache from eating too much batter and there may well be eggshells in the brownies, but what the hell do I care? I’m not eating them. AMIRIGHT?
The house didn’t burn down and I was able to get some work done and go to the bathroom (albeit while the baby was eating perfume), but it was a small victory nonetheless and I’ll take it.
I am going to try and keep “letting things go”, letting go of more control and accepting that I can’t do everything all the time. And my kids are off of school starting today for TWO WEEKS today, wish me well. I will need it. And they will probably too.