“Hi, my name is Mom and I like to repeat myself. Not once, not twice, but over, and over, until I lose my damn mind.” – Every mom checking themselves into the Crazy Mom Home.
I am referring to that moment where you kindly ask your child to put on their shoes, then that moment turns into 5 minutes – which you have already repeated yourself 6 times. Make note because those 5 minutes quickly turn into 15 minutes.
At this point you are dressed, everything is packed, duties are done, and you find yourself standing alone in the doorway, car keys in hand. The kid/kids? Oh, living in la, la, land singing the most recent Kids Bop song, playing with their toys. No shoes, no coat, no nothing but them living in their own little world. Not thinking about shoes, or mommy needs to get to work to provide, nothing. Not even a thought that I have 10 minutes to get to school. Just them in la, la, land with rainbows and butterflies.
You feel it. Like a shaken soda can. You finally explode. What else can you do after kindly repeating yourself one to many times? What else do you do when you realize you are running late for school/work? What else can you do when day-in and day-out as a mother you are constantly repeating yourself over and over and over again? To the point your own voice makes your head throb!
Moms, we don’t repeat ourselves because it’s our hobby, do we? I know, I don’t. Seriously you guys, I don’t! Being crazy is not my cup of tea.
Personally, I enjoy bubble baths, wine, and wait – lots and lots of wine, and puzzles on a relaxing evening. I enjoy ‘girl’ time, and overnight getaways with the husband. I don’t enjoy repeating myself, talking to myself, or simply losing my marbles. I just don’t.
Instead, lets be real. I repeat myself out of pure torture for my brain cells. Those brain cells that I depend on yet, I torture them by repeating myself. I love to repeat myself, don’t you? I love to repeat myself because my very smart and witty 7-year old is too busy rehearsing SpongeBob in her head that she forgets that she has 7-year old priorities and responsibilities to handle. See, In this paragraph alone I proved that I love to repeat myself.
Let kids be kids right? Abso-freakin’-lutely, however, not when we have things to do and places to be. Not when I spent 20 minutes of my morning talking to myself. I think I repeat/talk so much that our pet Guinea Pig Molly is going to one day speak English and answer for my kid.
Ok, ok, lets get back to that explosion. You know the one that the minute you raise your voice even the slightest, your kid’s faces turn into tears.
Uh-oh, call the ambulance we have crocodile tears. Those darn, “My mommy is a momster tears”. Tears that Mommy only yells and never snuggles, kisses, loves, or thinks of me before herself.
Mommy’s out there lets admit it, aren’t we all familiar with these sob-story tears?!
We are pure Momsters! – Yes, those are real!
Those tears are the tears that send us on our commute to work with pure momster guilt. Ugh, that good ole, HORRIBLE, momster guilt.
Ladies, I am all too familiar with that moment. I believe this is the moment I forgot to read the fine prints when I signed off on motherhood. Darnit, I was just too excited that I was going to be a mother- I couldn’t wait for the baby snuggles. I figured terrible twos would be breezy (in my opinion it was) and I forgot that this cute little nugget of a child would one day turn into a child with a mind, opinion, and temper of her own. Who would have ever known?!
Don’t get me wrong I absolutely adore my sweetheart. She is a strong willed, determined, smart, and overall well-behaved child. She is the kid I didn’t have to childproof my house over, the kid who holds my hand in the store, and doesn’t ask for much. My mostly perfect kid.
Today though, we had that SpongeBob, Kids Bop, and Barbie Doll moment.
“La, La, La.”, Says Ahmyri.
That moment that I told her 4 times to put her ‘Valentines’ in her backpack for her classmates. That moment we got down the road, pulled into the school parking lot, only for her to realize she forgot those ‘Valentines’. You know the ones I reminded her about FOUR FREAKING TIMES!
How, why, I asked over and over. How did you possible forget the gosh, darn, Valentines.
1, 2, 3..breathe Kristy.
OK! Don’t get me wrong we live close to the school. But, I looked at the clock and realized turning back home would be torture. Pure torture. Not only do I have to sit in the circle of the ‘drop off’ traffic. Which is torture within itself. But I had to get back through the traffic light and back to the house all within timing of not being late to work. Which judging by the clock – I was putting myself out at least 10 minutes.
I was still getting my Dunkin Donuts though – sorry boss. So another 3 minutes added on the clock.
I wish I could’ve been that ‘mean’ mom that those crocodile, Momster guilt tears are all about. I wanted to so badly to teach her some mean mom lesson of going in the school with no Valentines. That would do it right? Shoot – the thought crossed my mind.
Yet, I couldn’t. I sat in the drop off traffic watching parents and kids walk with their Valentines. Smiles, laughter, and excitement; so eager for the day. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw her face. A face that I will bend over backwards and fly to the end of time for. That face I was so infuriated with, wanted to scream so I could pay the price and cry mom guilt tears to work.
A face that I still proceeded to turn back for, torture my soul for.
It’s Valentines Day. Mistakes happen and I just hope she learned a lesson. We live and we learn right?
Happy Valentines Day to all of you. It may be a Hallmark holiday but the vibes that it brings are sweet and dear. Hold your loved ones near and just cherish those that bring you smiles.
Love is love even when those little humans drive us insane!
^Valentines Day was a success. Guess this Momster isn’t too bad! Look at that precious face.