Something happened on Friday: I lost it.
I lost it like I haven’t in a long time. After a long week. After days of arguing with Honeybun and listening to her say things like “I just don’t like to think” and “I’m not going to do it!” and “I hate homeschool.” After spending over an hour trying to get her to complete 8 simple addition problems. After being yelled at by my six year old with pseudo curse words (you know, the kind parents use when they don’t want to curse in front of their kids but are nearly as bad as real curse words because they are used in the same context…)
I had had enough, I was exhausted.
I gave the girls instructions to start cleaning their play room (a task they had known was coming all day) and I sat down on the couch to nurse a distraught and hungry Doodle who had just fallen after coming in from the pool. I told the girls that I would help them when Doodle was done. And that is when it happened. A crash, a gasp and the words: “Mommy! Sugarplum just broke your nail polish!”
Usually I would send the girls back to whatever they were supposed to be doing and finish feeding Doodle then take care of it but we’re talking about broken glass. And spilt nail polish…
I took Doodle off the boob and rushed into the kitchen to find Sugarplum precariously perched on the edge of the kitchen bench where she had been trying to reach my nail polish on top of the cabinet. And there was the hard truth: nail polish and broken glass splashed across the kitchen floor.
And that is when I lost it.
I sent the girls out of the kitchen and strapped Doodle into his highchair and as I began to clean up the mess, I gave the girls everything I had. But (luckily) I didn’t have much in me. I wanted to scream, let them have it, make them feel the true consequences of their actions and choices but my voice came out barely louder than usual and was all crackly.
In any other situation I probably would have sat down right there in the middle of the kitchen floor and cried, but there was broken glass. And nail polish. So instead of collapsing in frustration, I wept while I swept. And I bawled while I vacuumed. And I sobbed while I mopped. (I’m starting to sound like a knock-off Dr. Seuss book!)
And I thought about it. In that moment I had lost it and while I felt guilt over my reaction, what really bothered me was the question: when had I lost THEM?
When did my parenting go so far off course that they can’t follow simple directions? That our basic house rules (rules like if it’s not your, don’t touch it; make smart, safe choices; and be kind to each other) are too much to handle?
I tried to remind myself that testing boundaries is normal and that it indicates a secure attachment. But we’re not talking about a baby or toddler here, this is not about Doodle reaching into the cookie jar after I told him “no”. This is a four year old and a six year old who feel so confident in my love for them that they can do anything they want.
They know that I love them always and no matter what but what we’re missing is the respect part. Somehow I’ve been completely incapable of teaching them to have respect for me. To treat me kindly, lovingly and to do what I ask of them. They do these things for most other people but can’t manage to understand it should be done for me as well.
It’s not that I don’t discipline them or follow through with consequences or threats, it’s that they don’t care. They already act like teenagers, thinking they can do anything they want and that they can make their own decisions and I can’t get through to them (despite my sometimes over the top consequences).
I know fear is not a solution and I definitely don’t want my kids to be afraid of me but I wish they were afraid of the consequences enough that they made better choices. Instead they make the same terrible choices over and over again and then freak out about the received consequences.
It is just so exhausting, overwhelming and frankly, soul breaking. Doing the right thing day in and day out, reacting to every bad choice my children make and still getting nowhere. Sometimes parenting is a thankless job but I just keep hoping that by working so tirelessly now, I’m creating future good people. (right?!)
