I marched through the house with a feeling similar to what a military general charging in to battle might feel. My heart raced, my teeth were clenched, my eyes were as wide as saucers. I'd had enough. I was tired of being disrespected, unappreciated, and taken for granted. I had a garbage bag in one hand and Barbie in the other, as my girls cried out in horror. I had been through the entire house. No chair, blankie, or toy chest had been left unturned. I left 2 garbage bags full of toys in my wake and I wasn't done. Barbie was the last toy in the house and she was going down. I felt better than I had in as long as I could remember, I felt euphoric. At this point things seemed to be going in slow motion. I stuffed Barbie into the trash bag and threw it towards the door as I wallowed in my victory, I possibly even threw my hands in the air with satisfaction. I had won. They didn't want to pick up their clothes, shoes, toys, trash, or anything else. Well now they didn't have to, because it was all in garbage bags and the trash man is coming tomorrow!
My adrenaline began to come down and I returned to reality.
The look on my children's faces was heart breaking. They went from upset about their things being thrown away to shocked by the way I marched through the house like a mad woman to finally scared and afraid of the monster that had taken over their mother's body. What was I thinking marching through the house like General Custer? Stomping around throwing a very adult sized temper tantrum! I was so disappointed in myself and the guilt flooded right in. I've said it to myself thousands of time since before they were even born: It's up to the adult to set the example. If I lose control then they will not only lose control, but learn that it's an appropriate response to anger, frustration and other emotions. I had to maintain order.
Easier said than done.
Later that evening, after making things right with my girls which had to start by convincing them I was indeed their mother and had not been abducted by aliens, I spent some time alone trying to figure out where I went wrong. It may sometimes seem like volcanoes just suddenly erupt, but that is not the case. Below the surface the pressure is building. I'm no volcano, although I have yet to lose my baby weight, but I work in a similar way. Below the surface the pressure builds. The frustration, the anxiety, the disappointment, the resentment, the negativity builds. The monotonous repetitiveness of asking for something to be done over and over again until you finally have to do it yourself, again, wears on your sanity until Mt. Mama erupts and nobody, not even Barbie, can stand in your way!
Do I like to feel this way? No. So it's time to put me first and get to the bottom of this. This mama has gone mad and it's time for ME to find my way.
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