Rage monsters

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.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~