Tonight I ran away from home.
I shoved my husband's keys in my purse, two beers in there too, and took off. I had nowhere to go, no plan of any kind, but if I stayed at home any longer, it might have gotten worse. It doesn't make any better sense to tell you what happened before I lost my proverbial shit. Let's leave it at: kids piss off parents. Let's leave the details about who did what and why and when to your own experiential imagination.
After all, I am confessing not that my kids can be how kids can be some times: I am confessing to how I reacted. Which was ugly and bad and maybe it's some latent religion in my blood that makes me think that if I tell it, I can live better with it.
First, I yelled. I collared two kids and sent them to their rooms. One did. One didn't. I yelled again, close-the-windows loud. To say she talked back is mild. To say she lingered and made excuses is mild. I stood up from my stool when she tried again to get me, and I lunged: lunged! Like a bear for blood. She cried. I said or maybe snarled "you better be scared" and then I chased her up the stairs. And then I picked up a lousy sweater at the threshold of her room and I smacked it her way. I am not sure if it hit her; I was blind with rage and frustration and I felt like I could throw her out the window.
I didn't. I ran downstairs, out of breath and panting and and literally shaking with adrenaline and guilt and anger and horror about what I had just done. Then I puked in the kitchen sink.
Puked. In the sink.
That's when I grabbed my coat and the Kid's keys and the two beers and took off. I think I told him the pork roast for us would ding when it was done.
I was half way down the street and panting more than breathing and I pulled over and called my high school roommate who only just moved to town, from another country, and who has two very little kids and a very big job and travels a lot and she didn't answer. But I went to her house anyway, even though I wasn't totally sure where it was and even though I knew their furniture hadn't yet arrived and that it was Monday. At 7:30 pm.
I was fully prepared to just sit on their front steps, like a sad hobo, and breathe for a minute and sulk home. Instead, they welcomed my sobby puffy face into their own regular mayhem.
She knew just by looking at me that it was best to give a "tour" and she hustled me up to their bedroom and let me burst into my tears. She listened and nodded and she wiped a couple drops off my cheeks and I started to feel amazed at how long we have known each other and how many tears we have swiped off each others' cheeks and how it was kind of stunning that here we were, not 15 anymore, but here we were and I was crying about something that was really bad.
Also, it turns out that three year old boys test boundaries the same way nine year old girls do.
I ran away from home. I cried and confessed. I drove home to a sleepy house and sat down at this screen to confess again. My friend, she is a savvy business woman and a poet and a thinky kind of gal and she and her wonderful husband, they said "write about it."
So before you judge what I did - and please be kind - know that at least I admit that I did it and know that this confession was on the advice of the people who took me in, this sad little mama runaway, on one of the worst nights of her life.
I scared my kid, and I wanted her to be scared, and I puked in the sink.
28commentsBrilliant Person Wrote...
Do you remember the Eddie Murphy appearance, I think it was Raw, where he does a bit about how mean his mom could get and how she'd whip her shoe off like she was drawing a weapon and then chuck it at his head? I'm not pointing this out to reflect on how much worse it could have been. I'm telling you because you need to know, our kids need a little of this. How can they be creative and tell stories later if we never do anything irrational? If you were perfect all the time you would be denying your kids valuable comedic material later. So, uh, don't be greedy with the crazy. They'll thank you later, mostly.
To this day, most of my moms major screw ups are still among my best stories. I retell them now around family or friends who haven't heard them and she and I both laugh until tears run down our faces. As long as you love them to, it will someday become," hey mom remember that time you were sooo mad at me because xyz and you chased me up the stairs and threw that sweater?? Yea, you were like sooo mad."
What? I'm not the only one?
Having never pro-created I cannot weigh in on this (at least not from your perspective). But what I can say is that I was a smart-mouthed piece of shit teenager who got what I had comin' to me. My mom did crazy shit cause I deserved it and then we all apologized and grew up and moved on because in those years we alternated the Drinking The Crazy for Breakfast.
I do NOT want you to beat yourself up about this. Ms. Formerly Fun is totally on the money. You're going to be ok and so is your smart-mouthed 9-year-old. She deserves to know she pushed you to the "bad place". And I PROMISE she'll learn and forgive you and you absolutely deserved a cry and 2 beers.
Hugs!
me
Obviously, I have no personal experience on the mom end, but I have lots of experience seeing my own mom lose her shit, mostly with my brother. She dragged him down stairs and threw him in his room, she yelled and punished and told him to get of her face because she didn't want to look at him at that moment. My MiL once took off her shoe and smacked my then-teenaged husband with it when he called her a bitch.
Both of those pain-in-the-ass boys turned into successful, kind, moral men, with no lasting effects from their punishments, other than realizing how much their actions and words can affect those they love the most. Not a bad lesson.
My foster daughter AND I once had a complete breakdown in the parking lot of a grocery store. A woman was staring at us from her car. I told her to fuck off, put myself and f.d. into the car, drove home and put is BOTH in time out.
It was awful, awful, awful.
Hadn't she been through enough already?
Same thing - I called a friend, told her I was a terrible and awful person. And then got back to life.
It's amazing how quickly the rage can overtake you and turn you into something... other.
(And by "you," I mean not just you.)
Hope today is better. For everyone.
And, just so you know...we all flip out on our kids...and our Moms did on us and their moms before that. And it is totally okay. You are allowed to melt down from time to time...
Also, I'm super glad you have a friend to wipe the tears.
I, too, have sipped from that Fountain. Eaten the Volcano whole and belched Fire.
And then crushed by the Weight of it all....a broken Man.
I usually Chuck behind the garage though.
In the sink, Picket? That's just unhygienic.
That last bit was a Joke.
"Nobody told me there'd be days like these/Strange days indeed/
most peculiar Mama".
-John Lennon
I only wish that when I screamed and kicked and threw and yelled and stomped and frightened that it made me feel bad enough to puke. Anywhere. Even if it was the sink.
Most of the time I just say to myself, "Eh, I'm doing the best I can with the tools I have and she knows I love her even if right now, right this second, I had to go to the neighbors because she made me so mad that I wanted to disown her from our family. Just for the day. Or week." I should be a little more introspective about it but alas...
I ran away for the first time the other day. Kids were fighting the minute I walked in the door. Car was still running, so I turned around and left. 10 year old chased me down the street without shoes (only what once were white socks). 8 year old was crying and called my husband at work. I drove around the block and returned. We all said our sorries. It is not like I haven't been mad enough to run away before or won't again. You never know when the staw that breaks the camel's back will rear its ugly head. They know how much I love them and that helps us through these crazy escapades.
I let my kid get sunburned yesterday. It wasn't on purpose - but I felt some pretty major guilt about it. I think that's just the way of it sometimes.
I'm with C...O - they know you love them. Sometimes it is best for all involved to take a break. Don't beat yourself up on this one. I'm glad you told us. One day I'll come back and read this post and it will make me feel better about wanting to kill my own kids.
Man. Between this post and Oprah's show the other day about how HARD being a mom is, I don't know if I wanna do it. You moms are some amazing creatures. Profound respect.
You're a great mom.
Aren't you so happy you have your friend back to run to her house when you need to? I wish I had that.
I am SO with Carolyn. I've never felt bad enough to puke in the sink over what I did to my kids, (other things? often. That's what garbage disposals are for).
My kids and myself before them had the propensity and ability to be total assholes. Somebody has to let them know the difference between normal person and asshole person. That person is their parent. And if the parent doesn't do it, the parent is an asshole.
I say well done Ms. Picket and glad you had a friend to lean on.
We all lose our shit sometimes. Hang in there and don't be too hard on yourself.
I like what Formerly Fun said. And I think the same way. If we were perfect, our kids would have no comedy. I lovingly say, "Put that on the list of things you can go to therapy for later."
Yesterday I said to my 5 year old kid, "Hurry up, I'm about going nuts here."
She replied, "Well, you're not all the way nuts. You said about..."
We all lose our shit sometimes. Hang in there and don't be too hard on yourself.
I like what Formerly Fun said. And I think the same way. If we were perfect, our kids would have no comedy. I lovingly say, "Put that on the list of things you can go to therapy for later."
Yesterday I said to my 5 year old kid, "Hurry up, I'm about going nuts here."
She replied, "Well, you're not all the way nuts. You said about..."
I've done all this and even threw in slamming all the doors for good measure, too. My only wish was that there had been beer. Damn those who don't drink around here.
You're part of a team here, dear.
I think I can help here.
I have an 11 year old boy. I am also irrationally afraid that I will become an abusive parent. So much so, that there are tears and vomit about stupid things, nights of mental mediation about what I said, didn't say, could've said, you get the idea.
Ms. P kid's are frickin' naughty sometimes. Particularly so when they are BIG ENOUGH TO KNOW BETTER! I have absolutely done the same thing.
I have lost my shit. I have lost it so much so that my voice was hoarse and we all ended up crying over milkshakes at Micky D's.
It happens. You are human and so is she. We grow up together.
Sigh... I've so been there, Ms. P. At times, if I were a cartoon character, I'm sure one could see the steam coming out of my ears.
Sometimes I think the anger can help cement some boundaries. Boundaries for you to know when to run away and boundaries for the kids to know when they've pushed too far.
Oh dood. I'm on the verge of flipping right the fuck out pretty much every day. I wish I had a friend to run to like you do. Instead, I seethe and simmer and it gets even uglier. Next time, I'll shove a couple of beers in my bag and take off, too.
You are so not alone in this. And I'm really glad you blogged about it because I think the rage happens a lot more often than most of us are willing to admit. Knowing that others are having the same issues helps me feel not quite so insane.
I've done it too.
More than once.
One time (right before I got medicated) I told my daughter to get her own fucking bottle.
It happens.
I've been back here a couple of times, trying to come up with a comment. But really, it's just that I hope you're feeling better. It's life, is all. It's messy and you're living it well. That's all. Hang in there.
What they said.
I dont think anyone can judge when most of us have this kind of moment at some point in parenthood. I have had many of these moments - many of them included threats to send her to her dads...
So I understand, I comisserate, I mispell, and I hope that you are feeling better after the release. I guarantee she still LURVES YOU!!!
Dude, I would not judge you for this. There are days that I feel like doing the same thing and I only have the one and one on the way and I have no idea how I'm going to cope with two. There are moments that I almost understand why parents leave and don't come back. But you came back and that's what makes you a good parent rather than a coward.
Cyber hug, cyber hug, cyber hug, cyber hug, cyber hug, cyber hug
Wow. So clearly you're not alone and thank you (and your pals that suggested it) for writing it. I think it made every one of us feel better knowing we aren't the only ones that occasionally feel the rage.
Plus I think the kids (and The Kid) probably learned a little something from it.
xoxoxo
Eh. I still love you.
When my 1st born was just a wee (major colicky) tyke, I received the best advice from a soft-spoken, experienced grandmother: Motherhood is the toughest job you will ever love.
I cannot count the number of times I have repeated that, to both myself and fellow moms.
I am glad you had a friend to talk/confess to and hopefully put the experience far back in your mind!
Post a Comment