Incompetent

As I am writing this, I am literally counting my breaths.

I am calming myself as I feel my heart beating wildly in my chest. 

If someone were to look at me right now, they’d probably see smoke whistling from my ears.

Because, I am spitting mad.

At my daughter.  At myself.  At my handling of the situation.

 

The situation:

Noelle (after some major issues with testing my patience today) yelled to me, “WHY DON’T YOU TRY AND MAKE ME?!”

In our driveway.

For everyone in the entire neighborhood to hear.  In response to me calling her back in the house.

Oh yes she did.

I about flipped my lid.

As mentioned above, she has been testing and pushing my buttons all day. (A pretty common theme around here.)

This time?  Not sure why.  Maybe something to do with Mommy and Daddy having a wee bit of a vacation this past weekend? 

Who knows?  And you know what?  Who cares?  All I know is that right there? THAT wasn’t going to fly with me.

I marched her little behind in the house promptly, and escorted her up to her room.

In the midst of all this drama, I heard myself shouting.  I felt my blood pressure rising.  I could literally feel myself turning red with anger.

How dare she?

Why would she think that was OK? 

Why, why, why, why, WHY???

 

Before I was a Mom, I thought that parenting would be a breeze.

I was the oldest in our family.  (5 years older than my sister, and 11 years older than my brother.)

I had many younger cousins whom I saw often, and was often a caregiver to them.

I babysat VERY often for other folks in our small town.

Then, I became a teacher.  I had MANY students in my care. 

It was a breeze!  I was competent.  I was in charge.  I was capable.

And I always thought to myself, “I’m going to make a great Mom someday.” 

I would even go so far as to judge others for their parenting skills, or lack thereof.

As if I had a clue.

Now I AM a Mom.  And, I feel as if every day I suck at it a little more.

I don’t always feel as if I’m “in charge”.  I don’t always feel as if I’ve got it all together, or even that I’m hanging on by a thread.  Sometimes I feel as if I’ve completely tripped and fallen off a huge cliff, and I’ve got no spare branches or ledges to grab hold of. 

I try to maintain my balance, but somehow I find myself teetering on that edge of insanity.  Of not knowing what the hell I’m doing, or how to make things right.

How could I raise a daughter that says that to me?  Or even acts the way she does half the time?  I certainly never acted that way growing up.  I was the shy one.

Where did I go wrong?

What happened to my “in control” self?  What happened to my confidence?

Because now?  I feel like I know next to nothing about this parenting gig. 

I find myself questioning my parenting skills every. single. day when I have power struggle after power struggle with Noelle. 

She wears me out with her stubborn-ness and with her (what seem to me) negative pleas for attention.

I just feel inadequate.

I’m probably breaking some Mommy code by saying this, but my younger daughter is the one who renews my bruised ego.  Always eager for hugs and sweetness, she makes me see that I’m not a complete screw up.

I honestly don’t want to have these feelings.  The ones where I wish Noelle would just cooperate for once, and be more like her younger sister.

The ones where I feel resentful and hateful and helpless.

These are the things that you THINK you know about, but you have no idea. 

Not until you live it.  Breathe it.  Handle it.

Or try to.

But fail.

 

The deep breaths have subsided.

The heart rate is slowed.

We’ve had our talk. 

We’ve hugged it out.

We’ve promised to try better next time.

But I know that I’ll be right back here again soon. 

Because inevitably, I always am.

Haiku Friday - Funk it up

Edited to add:  Duh, Mandy!!!  SYLLABLES!!  NOT words, SYLLABLES!!!! 

Idiot. 

Sorry about that, folks.  I’ve been doing it wrong this whole time. 

Next week - I’ll do it right.  Promise. 

Gosh, I’m surprised that so many of you held your tongue.  ha! 

 

Been in a funk lately

Difficult to pin down the exact reason

I hate feeling like this

 

Rubs off on the girls

as well as Hubby (who tolerates plenty)

No end in plain sight

 

Cover it up for family,

friends, neighbors, strangers - all but my own

Have to get through this

 

Many things I can do

if only I could muster up motivation

I can get through this

 

Such a charmed, blessed life

What possible reason to complain?

Suck it up already, Mandy

 

Self-loathing is not attractive

“Depression”, I don’t want you - never have

Because I won’t seek help

 

Doncha love it?

Mostly I’m happy.

Mostly I try to stay positive.

Mostly I am easy going.

(Hubby, if you’re reading this, please don’t fall out of your chair laughing.)

ANYWHOOOOO….

I’d like to consider myself a pretty understanding person.  One who tolerates a lot. 

Or one who tolerates a lot before getting REALLY upset.

Just for fun, and for example purposes ONLY, let’s say that if the following things were to possibly happen, I just might maybe possibly go over the deep end. 

Because it’s so there.  Just over the horizon.

Let’s say I go to a haircutting place.  (Which shall remain unnamed, because 1) I’m embarrassed that I continue to patron this place and 2) I’m too much of a wimp to point fingers at specific people and/or places.)

Say that this unnamed haircutting place completely screws up my hair.  As in completely ignores the picture I provided.  Completely ignores my very, very (almost elementary) requests.  Completely whacks inches (INCHES!) off.  AND completely ruins the look I was going for - creating a very unattractive, lopsided look, so that when I look in the mirror, I have to hold my head sideways for the sides to match?

This little incident caused me to cry all night about stupid hair, and what a stupid girl I am for having placed the stupid ”beautician” in charge of my stupid head. 

*update* Today I suddenly grew a pair, and went in to request that it be fixed.  I was half hoping that the girl who cut it would be there, so that I could give her a piece of my mind, and perhaps yank my tip out of her undeserving hands.  However, neither of those things happened, since she was absent and unaccounted for upon our arrival.  And, the lady that I had fix me up tonight was well worth her tip.  I almost wanted to hug her for fixing me.  Though, I’m still a little forlorn for my lost months of growth that I had worked so hard on.  It’s just hair, though, right?  I’ll stop being a baby now.  Still…

 

Say, also, that every single weekend, I clean the house in anticipation of house showings.  I also look very much forward to seeing my husband, since this is the only time we see each other these days.

Say that perhaps we don’t catch any wind of any house showings, so we consider it safe for us to go about our Saturday and/or Sunday routine-O-fun.

Sure enough, as SOON as we begin our routine-O-fun, my caller id lights up with a showing request.

Welp.  Fun time’s over!  Time to head back home and prepare for the showing.  (Because no amount of pre-cleaning is going to resolve all the things that inevitably occur upon Hubby’s return home.)

Or if we already happen to BE at home - time to IMMEDIATELY STOP whatever it is we are doing -  i.e. extensively cleaning/organizing our garage.  Time to put everything haphazardly back to rights, so that our home is presentable to potential buyers.  Because we’re really getting desperate at this point.

This happens to us every. single. weekend!  I’m SO sick and tired of it!!!  I know that we’re trying to sell our house, but a weekend every now and again?  To enjoy?  Too much to ask???  Methinks not. 

 

Say, lastly, that Mandy decides to sit out and watch her girls play in the backyard. 

Relaxing, no?

Notsomuch. 

Not when neighbor kids constantly hang all over our fence as soon as the patio door opens.  Not when they whine request to come inside (of our fenced yard).  Or help themselves - leaving the gate WIDE open, so that a sweet doggy named Sally might wander off.

Now, I’m not a snobby person, nor do I object to my girls befriending the neighborhood kids. 

But, I have to draw the line here.  Because this isn’t a random thing.  And it isn’t only in our backyard.  It’s anytime we go to the front yard, too.  We seem to be a magnet to neighborhood kids and their playtime. 

I have to admit.  We’ve got a pretty fun yard.  But, seriously?  Can we enjoy it alone sometimes? 

I don’t let my kids just waltz into your yards uninvited.  I don’t allow them to knock or ring doorbells at all!  Maybe I AM snobby, but am I alone in thinking that it’s sort of rude to allow your kids to just roam the neighborhood, bothering whomever they choose and always at awful times - like lunch and/or supper? 

Not only do they invite themselves, but they do all these things that my kids know better than to do.  Like coming in and out of the house.  (WHA?  Get out!)  Like, jumping on the lid of our sandbox, and breaking it.  Like breaking a baseball bat by jumping on it.  (WHY?)  Like getting out the sidewalk chalk without first asking.  Or getting ANYTHING out that is not within reach of a child’s hands.   Grrr.  And, then when my girls try to correct them, they get all snotty.

Um, exqueeze me?  But, go home!

Please correct me if I’m wrong in my assumption that this is annoying.

Oh, and could you be a doll, and throw me a life preserver?  Because I think I just tripped and landed RIGHT over that last cavernous step toward the deep end.