Loads of us joke about accepting our “Mom of the Year” award as we feed our kids Happy Meals or forget to send an extra sweater to school on a cold day. Some days the whole parenting game is more of a struggle than it should be. You wake up with great intentions: very little TV, more music, lots of reading, and arts and crafts. You end up with 2 hours straight of Spongebob, not a crayon in sight, and the only books in use are the ones that your son is using as “tracks” for his monster trucks.
I’ve been ranting about “togetherness” a lot. Some of that has been actual frustration due to more time off together due to holidays exacerbated by wet weather. I’ve had PMS thrown in to boot. My patience has been worn to a nub and it’s not regenerating. I’ve been yelling a lot. Especially at Stella.
My daughter has been consistently driving me crazy. The worst thing? The not listening. She never ever listens. Like ever. You can ask her to pick up her dirty clothes and put them away 16 times. They stay on the floor. We’ve asked her at least 20 times a day not to chase the cats, which is a big deal since all the baby gates came down and the cats have fewer “safe” zones. She chases the F’ing cats. Constantly. They run, hiss, and once even attacked her resulting in some pretty good scratches all over Stella’s arm. Doesn’t make a difference.
I feel like I’m constantly berating her. I feel like she’s constantly ignoring me. I feel like all I do is bitch and get angry. And I hate myself for it. I got so frustrated last night I spent about an hour crying. I don’t want to be that mother. I don’t want my daughter to feel constantly picked at, picked on. I know her teacher is an asshole. I’ve been hearing about missed recesses at school. I want to cut a bitch every time I hear that. But then I find myself hollering at my kids – mainly Stella, as she more often than not seems to be the ringleader for whatever chaos is being unleashed – because I ASKED YOU TO STOP RUNNING AND SCREAMING AND JUMPING ON THE FURNITURE AND NOW YOU BROKE THE PICTURE FRAME AND NO DADDY WON’T BE ABLE TO FIX THIS.
I feel like crying now as I type this in the quiet of my office. I’m dreading the weekend and I hate myself for feeling that way. The first thing I did this morning when I got here was to Google ADHD and how to get your kid to listen. I even impulse-bought a book on Amazon, hoping for some answers. I haven’t wanted to default into the world of ADHD, but maybe it’s time to venture down that path. Will has it. I know it’s highly heritable. I see similarities in the way Will and Stella both react to different stimuli. He’s even said they’re wired the same. Our pediatrician has indicated more than once that he thinks “we’ll probably be discussing ADHD at some point in time.”
I feel tired. I feel so sad. I feel like a horrible mom. I feel pretty alone. I’ve read and researched. I’ve tried thinking outside of every box I could get my hands on. Hell, I’ve tried aromatherapy and essential oils. I want to protect my daughter and help “fix” whatever the hell this thing is. I want to send her to time out forever. I don’t want to punish her for things she obviously can’t control. I can’t cope with the constant noise-making and movement and how it amps up Felix, only exacerbating the problem.
I don’t know what to do now.