I wrote this message to a dear friend after reading the following blog post on parental rage, that taboo topic that is such a big and normal part of parenting that so many of us struggle with. I'm including my message here because I want to share aspects of my own emotional journey through motherhood.
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Hi Friend,
So,
you know how some people post status updates on Facebook like, "hey, I
made it to my 5am spin class!" or some other super-awesome thing they
did that most people would recognize as being an accomplishment?
I so wish I could post this:
"Hey Facebook! You know what I did this morning? I let love win!!
I held my SHIT together while I... carried my totally bundled/well-protected-from-the-cold
3 yo in from the car parked a whopping 30 feet from the front door of
daycare while pushing a carseat stroller carrying similarly bundled 4
month old WHILE said 3yo was screaming (no: caterwauling), hitting me in
the FACE and under the concerned stare of about 10 other parents.
You hear me, Facebook? I held my SHIT TOGETHER. I didn't yell,
didn't cry, didn't grit my teeth, didn't drop my 3 yo and make her walk
or die of hypothermia on the sidewalk, didn't say something snarky to
her, didn't cry myself or... [beat] hit her back!
And this is AFTER I woke up to feed a fussy/hungry baby at 12,
2, 4, and 6, AFTER I endured a 7am meltdown from aforementioned 3 yo
because I wasn't Daddy, AFTER I showered/blow-dried, and put lots of
make up and heels on because it's picture day at work, AFTER I packed
the car with about 5 bags, AFTER I tended to 3 requests for different
breakfasts, AFTER I remote-start warmed the car in preparation for a
freezing-cold-related meltdown, AFTER we watched an episode of Doc
McStuffins so as not to disrupt the morning too much (even though it
makes me so late), AFTER I nursed an infant again at 8, AFTER I made
myself coffee only to let it chill on the counter, AFTER I packed second
breakfast for school, AFTER I got two little people dressed in
cold-weather, semi-reasonable looking outfits, AFTER I strapped a baby
who hates car seats into a car seat, AFTER I tried the "frozen bubble
experiment" with the 3yo in the courtyard before getting into school.
BOOM."
None of that shite matters... what matters is, why I am NOT crying at my desk this morning, is that I accepted the tantrum, and I didn't blame her for it. I took an extra 10 minutes with her and helped her calm down, read her a book, helped her remember that she is okay, she is safe, and she is loved.
I know this sounds obnoxious, even sanctimonious, but it's only coming from a sacred place of recognition. These kind of moments are the HARDEST MOMENTS OF MY LIFE. Because that's when I encounter the RAGE MONSTER, the monster that makes me forget that I love this tiny human, this sweet, sensitive, old-soul
who was placed under my charge. I feel the venom, and I want to spit. I
hear the blood pounding in my head and I want to SCREAM. I feel the
tremors, and I want to shake something, or even someone. I may never get
it let that far, but I don't want this rage
monster in my neighborhood, let alone inside my body. And the monster
sometimes comes just a little too close to taking over, leaving me
terrified and deeply ashamed.
But not today, Friend, not today. Today, love won.
There's no greater accomplishment I have ever experienced then letting love take over.
I don't think I can make the rage
monster disappear, but I will continue to fight it. This will be my
fight - perhaps the hardest fight I encounter as a parent. I will
fight. I will fight for love.
And that will be greater than any work success, any hard
work-out, and even greater than anything I produce, manage, or even
create.
In love, understanding, and solidarity,
E
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