Rage. I have some. It bubbles like magma right below the surface and is ready to blow at any slight provocation, any change in the emotional climate. Today it was set off by a variety of irritations, inoccuous in themsleves, but taken together caused me to turn into Mr. Hyde so quickly my children did not have time to blink, let alone defend themselves. I am not talking of any physical violence or emotional abuse- I am talking about a pure, ferocious temper tantrum.

Why? You might ask yourself. Ah. Good question. Could it be that I had reverted to my 16 year old pubescent self because of a book? Maybe. (I will go into that book later). Coould it be the lack of sleep? The slight hangover I had from the night before? Probably. The fact that my children are 6 and 9 and still can’t clean their room without a) fighting b) actually picking stuff up? Most definitely. It is like their eyesight does not pick up on bits of kleenex, small polly pocket parts or plastic bags. In fact, this might be some sort of developmental trait that appears when you are 21 and are responsible for your own floor. Anyway, my children can’t seem to see all the crap littered around their room and that really pisses me off. They think it is clean because the lipgloss is lined up in a row on top of their desk. Today, the offending factor was putting ALL of their bedding down the laundry chute when I specifically asked for just the sheets. It sounds trite, (and I know it is but I still can’t help placing a “but” here) BUT I am tired. AND I am wondering how the hell I got teleported to adulthood when I obviously am only a sixteen year old in my head. AND my children are going to a birthday party and have playdates and I have to take them there. AND, they don’t seem to appreciate that I also have stuff to do and that cleaning up their crap is not one of them. AND I have to go back to work tomorrow feeling more tired and fed up than when I left on Friday night. And did I mention that I am a little lost as to how I got here in the first place?
So my response A good old temper tantrum. I YELLED. and YELLED. And then I YELLED some more. And than I took my oldest to her birthday party. And then I went to fetch the other friend on the bus and took my youngest and her skating. AND despite their whines and their groans about the distance, I made them hot chocolate when we got back. And now I am feeling like the tired, overworked thirtysomething I am and my child is screaming “Mama! Mama!” and I just want to be left alone…

2 thoughts on “Rage

  1. I had a big long comment, but I have been kicking my internal editor into working better.a summation:my dad, aged 66, still has not “learned” to pick up after himself. I thought your theory that at the magical age of 21, one will start “picking up” is hilarious. you can have a chat with pamplemousse about my Corner of Despair.nice ads.

  2. Ahh, how well I remember. The absolute incomprehension about how it could possibly take so long to clean a room and have it look just like it did before they started. The voice inside my head telling me to ‘SHUT UP!!!” as I continued to rant. We all have our days. Do we ever feel grown up? If someone does, I’d like to hear from them.

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