I’m having an awful day, internet. The common pressures of motherhood are eating me alive.
There are a lot of mommybloggers who will tell you about the newest product you should try, or about the funny thing their children did today, or about how deeply they love their sons, or how potty training is oh so challenging. And while I love to tell you (some of) those things, that’s just not the kind of day I’m having. At all.
I haven’t found a mommyblogger yet that will tell you about the kind of day I’m having — an awful dark day when my four year old is so angry with me that he growls and shouts and leers at me, over and over again. Tidal waves of anger, with no discernible starting point. How he doesn’t treat other people that way, only me, and how that is a painful terrible knowledge -even if I know, intellectually, why that is.
I’ve never heard us confess to wondering if our child has started to hate us. Or talk about the terror of that irrational feeling.
We don’t talk about how it feels to have to deal with our own anger and frustrations, mostly all by ourselves, as we try to set a good example of how to be patient and kind, when what we really want to do is stomp our feet and shout “Stop treating me this way. Who in the hell do you think you are?”
We don’t talk about what it is like to stop trying — how it feels to act more childish than the child himself.
We don’t talk about that. We just don’t, and I wish we would. I know there are limits. Our children deserve our discretion. And they deserve room to go through undocumented phases. But I wish we could talk about it a little. Because if we could, I wouldn’t feel so lonely sometimes. And I deserve that. I think I do.
So for any mom who wants to feel a little less lonely today…
Today, my kid has spent more time angry at me than happy with me. The feeling has been mutual. Today, my son has flinched when I’ve tried to touch him. He has growled at me. He has thrown things at me. Today, I panicked and stupidly asked my son if he had stopped liking me and why. Today, my son sat on my bed in his red t-shirt and superhero underpants. He sat there with his fists clenched, gritting his teeth at me, with tears welled up in his eyes and he growled “Well you still have to snuggle me before bed, Mommy. DO IT!” I didn’t answer him, but just stood there staring at him, my fists clenched, gritting my teeth, fighting back my own tears, so confused and elated by this angry demand for snuggling. I laid down, but did not touch him or even look at him. After some time, he growled “Sing Somewhere Over the Rainbow.“ And added, not sarcastically, “Please.” I contemplated refusing him, just to hurt him. But then I started to sing anyway. He moved closer and slung his arm around my neck. An apology of sorts. His touch did not soothe me. Too little too late. I cried as I sang the end of the song, aware that it was probably freaking him out. I gave him a perfunctory kiss, told him I loved him even when I was upset, and left quickly. And I sit here now, typing this out feeling helpless, exhausted and so confused, spending naptime already anticipating bedtime.
Some days are just like this.
And it’s a goddamn shame that more mothers won’t admit it.
(Raises hand)
I had that same day yesterday. And I spent it wondering how I could possibly feel so at the end of my rope with someone who is 7. How will I ever survive his adolescence?
Hang in there! We’ll make it.
Genevieve Thompson Reply:
April 1st, 2011 at 4:10 pm
Indeed we will.
Got one for you:
http://www.motherswhowrite.blogspot.com/
Her earlier stuff expresses a lot about her frustrations.
Genevieve Thompson Reply:
April 1st, 2011 at 4:10 pm
Mandy! Thank you. I’ve run across that site before and haven’t explored it properly. Just stopping by today, I was in love with her description on her home page.
Tony Jr learned the phrase “I can’t take it anymore” directly from me. I have cried, clenched my fists, acted more childish than my child, and broke a clothes basket one day because I had to smash SOMETHING. And you are so right about the loneliness of it. And the frustration at people thinking that all you do all day when you are a Stay-at-Home parent is watch tv and cuddle. The other day, for just a split second, I understood where Medea was coming from ;) I don’t know who needs warm weather more, me or them. But we will make it. And we are all out there, silently (or at least softly) feeling it with you <3
Genevieve Thompson Reply:
April 1st, 2011 at 4:11 pm
Sam’s learned phrase: I have had just about enough of this. It’s almost funny coming out of his mouth. ALMOST.
oh honey, you are so right. we DO all have days like this. wish i could give you a big hug right now. i have been there with my 5 year old many a time. xoxo
We’ve been dealing with Isobel’s tempers and tantrums and they have lately gotten to be pretty bad. We thought it could be the ear infection returning so we took her to the doctor. Nope. She’s just behaving this way because she’s two.
I’m sorry.
Genevieve Thompson Reply:
April 1st, 2011 at 4:12 pm
Yeah, I just took Henry’s temperature hoping it was an explanation for his… feelings. Nope. :)
So sorry it was such a difficult day with them. Yep…I’d almost forgotten those days (so long ago). But, I remeber them now. Think all the feelings you expressed are pretty normal. Hope tomorrow wipes away all the anger and frustration!
Genevieve Thompson Reply:
April 1st, 2011 at 7:40 pm
That’s the bizarre part about it, isn’t it? It feels SO awful while it’s happening, but this afternoon and evening has been perfectly pleasant. Thank God!
Fist bump in solidarity.
Visiting my family now and seeing my middle sister’s frustrations with her teen kids and my older sister’s ease with her out-of-the-home kids. It’s a long road (a thought that does not help on those horrid, horrid days).
Smiling at Kerri’s solidarity fist bump because amen sistah, every mother has days like the one you described. A friend of mine said once that when she was talking to her mom about her and her sister’s childhood, her mom said, “You little f*ckers drove me CRAZY.” (Or something to that effect.) It’s funny to them now. But I know in the moment it is anything but funny. It’s discouraging and demoralizing and terribly frustrating and infuriating and…(insert other adjectives here). I don’t think there’s a mother alive who hasn’t looked forward to a kid’s bedtime, finally getting that respite at the end of the day.
I can’t even tell you how many times I have to turn to Ryan and say, “I just might hit him” because if I don’t take a moment to say it I might do it. Hang in there. We all have those days even if we don’t say it.
This post brought tears to my eyes (and I rarely cry). I too have been there. I think it’s great that you are putting it out there! Even though you are probably over it, here’s an internet hug.
Genevieve Thompson Reply:
April 12th, 2011 at 8:33 pm
I take internet hugs even when I am over it. Thank you!