Those Kind Of Days...

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Thank you all who participated in the Growum! giveaway!! The winners are Briana Shultzman & Rachel Nightingale… if you could head over to Richardsons Hardware's Facebook page, check out the pictures and pick which Growum! you want sent your way. Then e-mail me at samantharichardson83@gmail.com on your preference and I'll send them out ASAP!!

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Carrying on...



There are some days, as a mother, the kids and I couldn't be anymore in sync. It's on those days, my confidence, in feeling secure in my roll of being a mother, soars. The day's course runs smoothly, the kind of day where the kids don't only love each other, they like each other. Hurdles are cleared gracefully and when the worst of the day is the late night shifting of a forgotten load of laundry, even then it turns out to be only towels.



And those days that the scale is fully teetered... The kids are irritable, tired and cranky. Where their irrational reactions to the smallest of everything is met, in turn with my calm, collected self, absorbs their frustrations, validates their anger, and is returned with an even understanding, plenty of lap snuggles, calming suggestions, or redirected approaches.

On these days, I nestle in being needed, satisfied with my patience, and more than elated that this day, was one of those days, that my collected self, during their unraveling, tightened the fibers of our relationship, hopefully to be repeated often.



Some days, I can't image bedtime coming fast enough. My tolerance is low for the fighting, bickering, and nagging. I am cranky, I am tired, I am irritable. On these days, it's on the 3984343th time, of being asked for juice, that I have already said, would be poured and delivered after I finished cleaning up the baking flour that had been thrown on the floor, or done cleaning the poop off of the walls, from the little girl, who decided to play in her diaper before I realized it was soiled, that I fly, directly, off the handle. My louder than the approved indoor voice is used, unrealistic empty threats about throwing children in snow banks or child safety proofing myself inside a cupboard for the day, are made.

I've even been known to throw, the toy I've asked to be picked up off the floor over 1 million times, out the front door. Fortunately on these days, the kids receive me evenly. Hush their laughs as they witness my dramatic antics, scurry to their rooms in hopes that an 'out of sight, out of mind' tactic will protect them from having to clean up any of their own messes.

I go to bed those days, thankful for the night, but equally as guilty, promising tomorrow will be better, and it usually is. It's in the tomorrow's reflection, I know those days, are the kind of days that will be brought up as the kids get older, in conversations that will provide a good laugh at my expense.



And now, I know there are days like last Thursday. A single turning of events, over something as simple as Wesley needed to pull out a tooth that he had loose in his mouth for over a year, a tooth that hadn't been pulled at prime plucking time, but left alone, to recede to the roof of his mouth, allowing the adult tooth to grow in blocking it, can make a day spiral fast. This was Thursday's game changer.

The way I saw it was that the tooth needed to come out, if Wesley wasn't willing to do it himself, it needed to be done for him. Very black and white… Wesley provided a lot of grey.  He monopolized the house's energy, in a negative way, for over four hours. He cried, he whined, he slammed doors, and he threw toys. He did everything and anything, to exert energy, other than pull his tooth {that now had dental floss on it, that would only be able to be taken off, with the tooth pulled}. I gave him ultimatums, suggested alternative approaches, and prepared him for the inevitable reality. On this day, it was only a matter of time for my frustrations to be exposed and when I took a step toward Wesley to take a look at his tooth, he coward against the wall as if I was going to hit him… Let me tell you… cool, calm, and collected were gone as quickly as my blood pressure spiked.



At the time I stepped toward him, I was calmly asking for me to be able to look at the progress of the tooth, and for him, a child who has never in his life had a hand raised at him, been harshly spanked, or verbally assaulted, to respond in such a dramatic, victimizing, eye pleading don't beat me, kind of way, it was in that very moment, I had this flash of anger, mixed with insult, frustrations, hurt, and blatant disrespect, I had never experienced before.

My heart felt hot in my chest.

{Did I mention my mother-in-law was here for the whole thing? Talk about a daughter-in-law's actions that scream "your son settled for psycho!"}



I can't say I'm proud how my temper took over after that, I yelled how disrespected I felt, I pointed out how insulting his absorbing behavior was, how he owed his brother and sister an apology for bringing his negativity into their day, and how selfish he had been wasting everyone's time.

After that, I sent him to bed, handed further Wesley related necessities over to Nathan, and checked out.



Since then, the tooth has come out, thanks to Nate. We've had a great weekend, and we're back to our typical family ora. I have enjoyed this eager to help around the house, listen the first time, and play nicely with his siblings, approach Wesley has taken the last few days… I'm waiting for the heat to stop rising in my chest every time I think about Thursday, before I talk to him in a defused emotional way, about his behavior and my reaction.

I keep thinking how I will fail them miserably if these days are more frequent, more sever, more involved than the simplicity of a tooth. How the consistent time of assertive calm, means nothing, if I fuel, already high emotions, with my own lose of emotional control. At the same time, I harbor no regret about my intentions in standing the ground of following through with what I know is only in the best interest of my child.

One one hand, I wanting to grow from my instinctual trigger of my reactions that day, break them down, dissect them until the driving force is found, defuse the hot button…on the other, I want my kids to expect raw reactions from their parents, when they play unfairly, cast insulting stones, and undermine the fact that it's us, that they are the most safe with.



But it's really on those kind of day that, I unrealistically am hoping we don't have to repeat…