The Day I Put a Hole in the Wall
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Believe it or not, I didn’t plan on writing this post. It wasn’t marked on my blog’s editorial calendar as “Discuss major parenting meltdown of the day.”
But it happened. I threw my stupid Tervis Tumbler water cup and put a hole in the wall.
Trust me, I was fine with the only people knowing this being my husband, my kids, and a select few friends who I would probably confide in.
Then I thought, Screw it.
On my About Me page, I wrote “I don’t mind admitting that while I do still aim for perfection, I often fall short.” I also claimed that my blog was about “surviving motherhood.”
And this was a definite case of both falling short and surviving…so I thought it was my duty to share with you. Because hearing about other moms’ perfect days isn’t what makes me feel supported in a community of moms. It’s hearing about the failures and the shitty moments that I can relate to.
Let’s first acknowledge that my New Year’s resolution was to stop yelling. Ha! That hasn’t been going well the past few days. I had been planning to make a fresh start with that once I could figure out a plan.
Ironically, I had a blog post all planned out called “How to Stop Yelling at Your Kids.” What a joke! The only post I could possibly write on that topic right now is “How to Keep Yelling at Your Kids.” Because I’m an expert at it!
Drink a gallon of water every day for 30 days? No prob! Keep calm and not yell at my kids for one week? Impossible!
Back to the hole in the wall. It was dinnertime (of course) and I was frazzled (of course).
Never mind the fact that I had tried to take the necessary steps to have a pleasant mealtime with my kids today.
I napped while the baby napped. (Well, tried to anyway. I didn’t actually fall asleep, but I “rested” for an hour.)
I made the meatballs and sauce in the afternoon so that I wouldn’t be stressed out in the 4:00 PM hour with hungry kids grabbing my legs while I was at the stove.
I chose a meal that usually my kids will eat.
Yet dinnertime began and it was the same hell it is every night. This one doesn’t like vegetables and will only eat them if I yell. The other one climbs on the table the second I turn my back. No one wants meatballs. And so on and so forth.
Then, as I got up to get more cheese for my pasta, my son reached over to my cup of water and dumped it out on the table. A flood of water all over my food. (YES, I AM AWARE I SHOULD HAVE HAD THE LID ON MY TUMBLER.)
I screamed, “What is wrong with you?!” and grabbed the cup, throwing it at the wall as hard as I could. Obviously it wasn’t a well-thought out plan, but I can tell you that it wasn’t my intention to put a hole in the wall. I just wanted to throw something (anything) to get my rage out.
As I saw what the cup did to the wall, the feeling inside me turned from rage to Oh shit, what have I done?
“Daddy’s not going to be very happy with you,” said my daughter.
Thankfully, my episode didn’t seem to upset my kids all that much. No one cried, but maybe they are used to their mom being a monster by now.
I texted my husband to warn him about the wall. Bless his heart– he came home from work, said nothing about the wall and took over with the kids for the rest of dinner and bath time.
And they all forgave me. I just have to forgive myself.