So, anyway, Hannah was in my lap (naked) at dinner. We attempted to watch Marley and Me while we ate. (Don't judge; seriously, dogs are Hannah's favorite things and I thought MAYBE it would give me a minute to eat in peace. No chance.) She eats her food and at least half of mine, and is grabbing my face, my hair, everything. I have had enough, and it is bedtime anyway, so I take her upstairs. We do the whole routine: brush teeth, read the Spot books, rock...then the screaming begins. I can't understand what she's asking for, but she's pointing to her crib, so I put her in it so she can either lie down or find what she wants so badly. This makes her scream LOUDER. This is where I turn into Joan Crawford (remember Mommie Dearest?). I feel awful. I raised my voice to her ("What on earth do you WANT?"), I gave up and stormed out of her room, slamming the door...I was horrible.
Chris came up to see what was going on and he ended up rocking her. She kept asking for me, though, and that made me feel even worse! I didn't hit her or anything (and I never would) but oh.my.gosh. The frustration was ridiculous. I guess I just reached my limit. Thank God I have a wonderful husband who always steps in just when I need him most. I can't imagine having NO support, no rescue...So, yeah. That's my confession. In the light of a new day, I realize she was just as frustrated as I was. She obviously wanted/needed something and when I couldn't understand what she was saying, she lost it. Then I lost it because SHE was losing it. Bad, bad, bad.
Has anyone been there? Please share your "mommie dearest" moments...Am I the only one who loses my cool with their kids now and then?
4 comments:
I remember when my daughter was just over a year old. She had her first cold and was feverish and refused liquids and was getting dehydrated. I knelt over her and tried to pour water into her mouth and she kept turning her head and I was crying and pleading and then I was screaming, 'WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU! DO YOU LIKE TO SEE MOMMY MAD! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU! WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!' until I was hoarse. Of course, this just made her scream more than she already was. Then I realized that I was being absolutely crazy and stopped. I've felt guilty about it ever since, wondering how much of it is buried away in her unconscious.
Eve - The guilt is the WORST! She is so loving today...doesn't seem to remember a thing, but I sure do, and its killing me. I apologized to her and she gave me a kiss. That made me feel better, but then I felt worse again because she's so sweet when I do NOT deserve it. Ugh. Parenting is so hard. Hang in there!!
I read a (true) account shortly afterward about how a WWII pilot was in the hospital after being shot down and nearly been boiled alive in leaking fuel. The nurses reported that he kept singing this song to himself. It got around and an officer recognized it as a lullaby from a certain country (I don't recall which). They got hold of the young soldier's father, who told them that the only person his son would have known the language from was the soldier's mother, who had come from there but died when her son was two.
I wish I knew what book it had come from so I could be a bit more precise. But that's the sort of thing that makes me fear that our kids will remember not only the good times (and console themselves with it) but the bad times (and hate us for it).
Oh no, Eve! What a story! I see what you mean. I guess we just need to ensure that the good times FAR outweigh and outnumber the bad, huh?
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