I’m ruining my children; I’m not alone

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Remembering the sweeter times to get you through the rougher times.
Remembering the sweeter times to get you through the rougher times.

Every once in a while I have to step out of the write-life, micro-farming, foodie-being, book-hoarding, and talk about my life as a mother. I wrote the below in another forum. A month away from it, I’m calmer (I started Yoga at the beginning of November) and can appreciate how I was feeling and the article that began to calm me down in the first place.

If you’re a mother who still tries to have a life outside of that role, I gather you’ll greatly appreciate this. Also, many of you who have been following me from the beginning of this blog or followed me over from Livejournal know that I have an Autistic son. I don’t talk about it much, but over the course of the next months I’ll be opening up more about that. In the meantime, here’s the piece following an epic mommy meltdown:

I felt it coming. It was a giant wave of dread and doom building up in the vast ocean of my psyche. I tried to avoid it, to circumvent it, to even try to make it not so bad. But, it came anyway, the mid-October blood-moon rage-filled meltdown tsunami. Blame it on a too-late football game in the middle of the week, or the fact that my husband has been out of town on business for a week, which the three teenagers in the house seem to think means the rules are suddenly gone or, at minimum, changed; or, that the daily trials of ‪#‎LifewithAutism‬ is turning my strength to mush. It came all the same. The house walls rumbled this morning, bringing soaking rage at the 14-year-old who seems to think that he’s the only one that had a late night and it’s somehow harder for him to get out of bed than anyone else at this god-awful hour. Anger that ‪#‎AspyKid‬ makes messes like that of six 4-year-olds and eats like a Platoon of Huns. Frustration with the 16-year-old that she can’t let me know her plans and schedule until JUST before anything is supposed to go down. That the dog trips me at every turn as I try to be a decent housekeeper (bwauahahahaha). Or that hubby is sending me photos of a paid-for business dinner of all of my favorites, while I scoffed down leftovers before racing off for a football game for my youngest. Or, or, or…..anything and everything.

Now here I sit with my first proper cup of coffee for the morning wanting to do nothing but hole myself away from all these responsibilities, or maybe get in the car and drive and never come back. Instead, I did the dishes, started the laundry, made my bed, and sat down to write, when my friend shared this article with me. There is solace in knowing that some of the outcome for my kids will be the same. I’m going to get blamed. Mom did something wrong. I went from being a soldier with a target on my back, to being a mother, with a target, too. Obviously, they are different, but a target just the same.

They will blame me. But, the hope that maybe that I’m setting a good enough example of how to live graciously despite challenges will remain with them and they can blame me for their optimistic attitude, for their ability to never give up, for their passion to fight for what is right, and try to laugh in the process. My sister said yesterday that I needed to remember that I’m human. To concentrate on what I can do. I can’t make my son happy in the morning when he wakes up; but, I can be the cheerful voice that tells him it’s time to get ready for school. I can’t make my other son’s Autism go away; but, I can sure as hell do what I can do to make his life as fulfilling as possible. I can’t organize my daughter’s life, but I can demonstrate how to keep a calendar and manage my time wisely. That I can stop and give my dog the attention she needs for a moment so she stops following me waiting for that moment.

My Oma said that children need very little discipline if they are watching good examples. I’m a human example. Like the woman in the article, I’m ruining my kids. But, I am choosing to concentrate on what I can do, regardless of the outcome. Some days it means I wear my slippers to the grocery store, or dinner is McChicken sandwiches, or that the kitchen floor spends another day unswept. But they’ll get hugs, words of encouragement, homework help, and can feel safe and secure in the knowledge that mom was the real deal. How did you ruin your kids today? Read the following. You’re not alone.  http://www.unexpected.org/…/10/were-ruining-our-kids-for-l…/

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