It was a long week.
Busy, and loud,
tied up with the nice little bow of my dog chewing through our lives Hungry Caterpillar style.
She showed no prejudice of item.
Sheepskin slippers, my daughter’s new glasses,
a favorite baseball hat,
and last but not least –
The only good bra I had that had never yet tried to kill me via underwire.
Chewed the clasp clean off.
I had to pull out the one from the back of the drawer.
You all know the one.
The girls fought a lot this week
over things like pillows, and toys, and slime;
Even over whose smile “looked the most sarcastic.”
It felt like 7 straight days of deep talks, discipline, explaining discipline, wiping tears,
and then just trying to stand my own ground.
By Sunday morning I had had it.
I was two short steps from trying to investigate ways to land myself in the Witness Protection Program when during yet another sister battle,
in what felt like a motherhood out-of-body experience,
I stood in the hall half-dressed with bed-head all askew, and loudly declared a ban on
“every single thing that they usually find fun.”
That golden mothering moment akin to the one years ago when I snapped during what felt like the thousandth slap-fight over Barbies,
and I shoved all but two naked, headless ones into a large garbage bag that I then took out to hide in the garage.
I kept those good Barbies in that bag for 6 whole months, and the girls mournfully played with the headless ones left and made sad little clothes for them from paper scraps and old balloons until I felt they’d learned their lesson.
Sunday was about to be a no technology, no Barbie, and no slime day.
That’s what I announced.
I told them that if they couldn’t get along while playing with a thing, then that thing would be out, no matter what it was.
Fight at breakfast? I’ll ban eggs.
Fight over bathroom space? You can pee in the back yard.
Fight over whose shirt that really is?
Guess what?
Now we don’t even do shirts anymore.
That’s the level I reached with
“This family needs a re-set day!” and
“Don’t think of it as punishment, think of it as feedback on bad behavior!”
They looked at me standing there at the end of my patience with three sets of big eyes,
but at that moment I didn’t care if I was wrong or being unreasonable.
I was a mountain that would remain un-moved.
All I could think about then was that I could not handle sister squabbles over cheap plastic items while also being forced to wear the bra that I hate.
Both things would be way too much.
It’s important to know our own limits.
We drove to church that morning in silence after that.
I’m sure with them afraid to make one wrong move for fear Mama’s face would pulsate again;
Me, replaying my crazy inside my head.
I ate a breakfast burrito off a paper plate the only way one can while they drive after having a nervous breakdown:
By holding the plate up to my mouth like a platter and gnarling at it like a wild animal eating at a cob of corn.
The visual of the scene was not lost on me.
There I was –
A full-blown Mama Monster digging into my scraps, and the only way to look at me safely was sideways.
I saw myself, then, from above,
and by the time we got to church and parked,
I had already apologized to the girls for the way the morning had gone so far.
Also, was there any burrito still on my face?
We agreed to start-over, and dragged ourselves through the double doors with body-language probably screaming that we had just started a family do-over.
When I walked in I spotted my friend Ariael.
Her back was to me and her baby was perched on her hip.
As she turned around and her eyes caught mine, I recognized her look.
It was the exact same one as mine.
Tired, relieved to see someone who would give a hug, imagining firing mini S.O.S. flares into the sky.
Her daughter had had a birthday party the night before, she said.
She had brought all 6 kids with her to church.
That kind of night and morning…
it just has a look.
“I promise that I feel you, Girl,” I told her.
We embraced long and then I headed on towards the back to take the girls into their classes.
I had walked maybe 30 steps when I saw yet another friend turning slowly to look at me.
She also had the look.
I went to her and we stood arm-in-arm sharing our woes and agreeing that we were in it together, when here came two more dear friends, with their own 6 collective children in tow;
And I saw it on their faces, too –
The expression that was a mixture of asking for help, and a sigh of relief to be laying our eyes on one another.
“I took SO many things away this morning,” my one friend confessed almost the moment she reached me.
I laughed and told her about my similar sounding grand proclamations that today I was removing all of the fun.
We stood there in a circle for no more than 3 minutes talking about kids talking back, and potty training, ear infections, and breaking up fights.
Just a bunch of moms who sometimes feel like we’re drowning except for these little life-preserver moments when we are reminded, standing face-to-face that, that though some moments feel lonely,
we really aren’t alone in this life.
Do I have great moments with my children where all seems right in the world and with my parenting style?
Yes, quite often I feel like I do.
Do I also have crazy-eyed moments where my brain is telling me to just stop ranting already,
but my mouth just keeps right on going anyway?
Yes to that one, too.
After all, we’re all just a bunch of imperfect people raising other imperfect people.
All we can do is our best, and then just keep moving on.
Motherhood is all of the very best that life has to offer.
It’s also hard, and so draining at times.
But even though some days can appear like a battle,
and we moms may feel outnumbered;
Though some mornings our lives may quite literally feel chewed up,
if we cling to each other and help keep the ones in our circles of influence strong,
we can stand to remind one another that it is a
worthy battle we fight;
And that if we do it with love
(and lots of do-overs)
it is one that we can never lose.
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
