Another Day, Another Tantrum

I’m frazzled. I’m worn out. I’m cranky. I’m getting near the end of my rope.

Hubster’s been working late for the last few weeks, I’m up to my eyeballs in school commitments, I’m trying to get the garden/yard pulled together as much as I can with a borked shoulder (I did something to it last week that makes pushing, lifting and breathing painful), running errands and dealing with some long, long days with the girls. And I want to get started on planning for my teaching job in the fall, but frankly I have no time or energy to squeeze it in.

The topper to this craziness is that every single day this week someone has had a tantrum. Not little tantrums, but full blow out, kicking and screaming, clawing and crying tantrums. Every. Single. Day.

Yesterday, despite being warned of severe time limits, Mouse decided to make a picture for a friend before school. When her ride arrived, running a bit late, I had to drag her kicking and screaming, pry her hands off the door jamb to get her in the car. The whole neighborhood got an earful at 8:30 am.

Today, her tantrum was multifaceted. It was about piano and stickers and hair and the fact that I am a horrible, awful mother who has absolutely NOTHING better to do other than be MEAN to her. She’s almost 6. I can’t *wait* until she’s in her teens. Save me.

And if Mouse hasn’t been waxing poetic in tantrum form, Baboo has been sure to fill in the gaps. Getting dressed, crackers, milk, sand… if you can think of it, we’ve had a tantrum about it.

Good times here.

I just wish I rebounded as quickly as they seem to. Generally, after they’ve got it out of their systems and I’ve tried NOT to explode or put them on the street with a sign that says “Free to a Good Home”, they’re fine. They’re looking to be forgiven and move on as though some tantrum switch has been flicked. It’s harder for me not to seethe for a while and feel more than wrung out for hours afterward. I do hug them, let them know I still love them even if we’re mad at each other, but sometimes it’s through gritted teeth. Granted, right now, I’m definitely not handling these outbursts as well as I could and I’m hard on myself for it. I’m yelling back and throwing up my hands and saying “I don’t care” as I walk away too much. All very tantrum- like. Showing up one tantrum for another. Very mature, I know. I know it’s not the best way to handle these power struggles but I’m to just feeling too fried to be proactive. And that must stop.

I’m hoping that things cool off, though I feel like I’ve been saying that for months now. For now though, I’d settle for a nap. A nice long, QUIET, kid free nap.