Well, let's just see where this little post leads us. Join me, on a journey to Whoknowswheresville. All I know is I've got some divine chocolate muffins in the oven awaiting the concluding segment of my self-induced therapy session. The main therapy would be me writing. There was prayer earlier. I'm guessing that was the precluding part.
So today is a little bit better than yesterday. Yesterday, at the posh gym, my son caused such the scene, it made my daughter cry for him. I ended up packing my gym bag up and leaving the gym without working out. The child is too young to understand that had I been able to exert the tension through my run, odds would have been much more in his favor. His tantrum was pretty embarassing. I'm guessing the nannies that have most of the other kids who come to the gym, have a pretty good grasp on their clients. Because the nannies and mom's all watched as Max threw his fit. Frankly, they all were watching me and how I dealt with it. Apparently, me carrying him into the day care while he was kicking and screaming, "I don't want to go!"...appparently that's a big no-no. Whatever.
I called my husband and explained to him that I was taking the kids home, popping them in front of the t.v. and searching for a job. There's just days I feel like I should go back to work and pay for daycare. Daycare these days is a process of getting what you pay for. You pay cheap, you get cheap. Don't fool yourselves and think you're getting a good deal. And quite frankly, you can't pay those sweet people enough. Also, it's a good time to point out that my salary two years ago, with a master's degree and a few years' experience was paying for daycare and my daily lunch outings with my co-worker adult pals. So, it only takes me a second to surf the web job listings and be completely humbled. If I thought I was depressed at being a bad mother enough to start searching for a job, searching for a job is even worse. It's nice to know I'm actually qualified for a few jobs. But then again I have to consider things like, waking up and taking a shower, brushing my teeth AND hair, getting my face on. Ironing. A wardrobe. Keeping me on a schedule as well as the kids. But what usually humbles me more than anything is visualizing the office scene. I'd rather work with 3 year-old's and their tantrums than with 50 year olds and the same tantrums. Can I get an AMEN?
I regrouped, apologized to my hubby for calling with the empty threat of getting a job. (I've done it a couple of times now.) I think I'm a fairly good mom because I'm constantly reviewing and critiquing myself. I'm also crazy and silly. That criteria does not come in handy when the tantrums start. Today my son had an Oscar-winning performance at the grocery store, drama, NOT comedy. Mind you, there's a potential tornado going on outside. I get them in the cart and head out to the car. The tornado seems to have passed already (It was just windy, I don't know why everyone freaked out and sounded off the city sirens.....I'm from Texas...tornado smornado.) We made it home and he went to his room. He cried for about 10 minutes and went to sleep. Are you flipping kidding me? That kid gets to go to sleep 2 1/2 hours before his bed time and I don't? I get a pile of guilt and a new strategic meeting with self on how I'm going to regroup the regrouping and develop a plan of defense tomorrow! And the offense is in his room sleeping!? Give me a break!
It's funny. You always want what you can't have. Stay-at-home moms yearn for an identity outside of mom status. Working moms yearn to stay home with their children. But now that we're all grown up, and we're moms, it's very important with the stepford wives at the gym and the park and such, "I'm so fortunate to get to stay home with my kids." Fortunate for you or for your kids? There's days like today when I truly believe my kids are better off by being reared by professionals. Now, don't get me wrong. I love my kids and all that. I'll spare you, as well as myself, and skip the mush.
There's days like today, where in hindsight, it's funny. Not so much in the moment, but hindsight IS wisdom, right? I can just see my dad and God up in heaven laughing at me, high fiving each other, and then toasting their scotch glasses. A couple of other great people I've lost walk by, "Hey, what are y'all laughing at?" And as they are directed down below to my scenario they look, laugh and say, "Oh, you guys are testing her again, hahahaha! You guys are tough! I love it!"
So, I've had the chocolate muffins now, and I'm all better now. Seriously, these muffins...you need them. God Bless Betty Crocker. Make these suckers, get two or three fresh out of the oven and put them in a bowl. No, not on a plate, get a bowl. Throw your hot muffins in the bowl. Get some milk, fill it about half way. That's a recipe for Sweet Justice. I'm serious enough to scan this so you can find it in the store. Go ahead, take your time. I'll wait.
While you eat, I'll recap. About once every 2-3 months, I flip out from a bad day of tantrums and bad responding on my part. In my defense, the kid can remember all the words to that song at the end of the Napoleon Dynamite wedding serenade after the credits. Yeah, my son, a 3 year old can sing it all, and totally nails it performance-wise. So, how is it that he can't remember tantrums are bad, mommy is good. Make mommy happy. Is that too much to ask? Yes, it is. Stop laughing.
I watched some Dr. Phil or Oprah episode where they had Stay-at-Home Moms go up against Working Moms. I'll never understand why Jerry Springer didn't get that one. It was ridiculous. These moms were relentless. Can't we all just get along? Remember one thing. If you're reading this from your office desk, chances are there's a working mom in an eye's shot of you. She does her job all while burdening an ongoing heavy weight of guilt as to if her kids are okay and will they resent her for sending them to daycare, among many other gut-wrenching concerns. Meanwhile, stay-at-home mom's are going to bed tonight recapping their game plan, what they should have explained better, should they have been more stern or sensitive, and what can they do better tomorrow. It's a neverending cycle of guilt. I just choose to embrace it. Embrace the guilt. Eat chocolate. That's how I roll.
