Dear Most Brilliant Mom Ever,
How do I get myself to stop freaking out in front of my kids? And by freaking out I mean..totally screaming SO loud and scaring the children into tears while losing my voice and making my face go numb.
Please advise,
Mom of 2 Crazies.
Dear Crazy,
The most “brilliant mom ever”? Wow! Thanks for the undeserved compliment, unfortunately it won’t make my advice any better. Sorry. But it just so happens Crazy, that your question falls right in my wheelhouse.
Did you know that I once taught an anger management class at the nearby community center? I know what you’re thinking, “A mother, wife, professional trampolinist, Little Miss Delaware 1979, rescuer of dolphins, shampooist…is there anything she can’t do?” Yes Crazy, I can’t remember the passwords to any of my accounts: email, bank, computer login, etc. Instead, I always choose the “forgot your password?” button. It’s an inefficient way to live.
Anyway, I’m proud to say my Anger Management classes were popular and well attended by members of my community. Of course, most of them were there through a court order, but I like to think that they really enjoyed the program. We did a lot of singing (“If You’re Happy and You Know It” was popular), role playing, and expressing our feelings through macaroni art. I saw my fair share of macaroni middle fingers.
I ran the classes for about 3 weeks before it was “suggested” by my boss that I look for employment elsewhere. He said I became too angry when students missed my class. Damn right! How would he feel if he had to skip the ending of One Life to Live every Wednesday only to find that some “angry ass” (as I called my students) didn’t bother to show?
Well, this one time I had to leave my house minutes before finding out if Cord was the father of Tina’s baby…and goddamn it if there weren’t 3 no-shows to class! WTF?! I got so pissed that I started throwing those metal folding chairs all around the room while my students stood in the corner egging me on. I think they took some sick pleasure from it. In fact, had I not crossed the line and flipped over the complimentary Coffee & Donut table, they probably wouldn’t have ratted me out.
I tried reasoning with my boss, but apparently my “Do as I say, not as I do” philosophy was not embraced by the Sussex County Community Center.
This, of course, was all pre-kids. I knew that if I wanted to be the best mother ever, I needed to stop drinking, swearing, and throwing chairs. I can help you with the throwing chairs part.
Here are a couple tricks I use to control my frustration and anger level…
You need a panic room
Think of this panic room as a “time out” for you, an escape if you will. Just before you’re about to go bat shit, I want you to quickly and quietly flee to this room for your safety and the safety of those in the house.
I realize that it’s hard to find a house with a panic room (unless you buy one of my old homes) but don’t worry, you can create one on a budget.
I took an ordinary spare bedroom and covered the walls and floors with those foamy egg crates meant for the bed, this absorbs my screaming and protects me from the screaming of my children. I then added a second layer of goose down comforters because they are soft, warm, and absorb my tears (unlike poly-fill). You’ll also want to add an additional lock on the inside of your door, maybe a deadbolt. It’s been my experience that your children can open the regular lock by inserting a tiny screwdriver or a bobby pin from Baby Hathaway’s hair into the doorknob.
Once you have the foundation for your room set you need to go about filling it with things that make you happy and/or calm you down. My panic room is filled with food and beverages that make me feel indulgent and occasionally buzzed. In addition, I leave inspiration notes to myself all around the room. You can either hand write these notes or go to a website that sells motivational posters and purchase some. It really depends on your decorative budget. I like www.successories.com for my posters as it allows you to narrow down the choices through categories. I always go right to the “WTF? This Isn’t What I Signed Up For!” section.
Here’s one corner of my room:
I pipe in Enya because it mimics the crying of my soul.
Displaced Aggression
This involves finding something that you can take your anger out on without the cops or Family Services coming to your home. It could be something as simple as kickboxing, or digging a grave in the backyard to bury your sanity. It’s a very personal choice. I like to do something a little more sadistic… Look at this before and after pic:
This plant thought it was going to a good home.
It was wrong.
I am the plant torturer. I buy the plant and then… if I’m having a good day I water it, if I’m having a bad day then I don’t. I think you can tell by the pics how the beginning of the school year has been going.
Tip: If I’m really pissed off I leave the watering jug next to plant where it can see it, and running my fingers up and down the handle I say “It sure is hot out here, I bet some water would feel refreshing.” and then…and here’s the best part…I pour the water onto the asphalt next to the plant and say “Oops! Darn that’s all the water I had. That’s a shame” – then I make a sad face and leave! I just f-ing leave! It’s like the opposite of waterboarding. I could probably work for the CIA if I didn’t have such loose lips.
Crazy, I hope I gave you some ideas that you can use. Just remember, they’ll only be at home until they’re 18 and then again at 35 when they get a divorce, so you’ll have 17 years without all the bullshit soon enough.
Kim
