I Don’t Want To Be Grumpy Pants.

I wrote this blog right after Thanksgiving, but, for some reason, never posted it. And, since one of my resolutions, this year, is to be more patient, I thought I’d slip it. in. 🙂

I hate it when I yell at my kids.  I know that I’m not the only mother that does it, but I hate it.  And, I don’t mean that I completely lose control and turn into the incredible hulk mom, but, sometimes, it does all get to me.  I definitely don’t like admitting on a blog that I’m not perfect, haha, but, for the sake of my point, I’m going to. 

I look back on my childhood and I can’t remember a time when my mom yelled at me.  But, surely, she must have.  I got even grumpier then when I was hungry than I do now.  So, she must’ve wanted to wring my neck more than a few times, but I don’t remember it.  I remember the love.  I remember the singing and the dancing and how all of my friends wanted to come to my house because they loved my parents.  That is how I hope and pray that my kids will remember their childhood. 

And, I do sing and dance.  And, they sing and dance with me.  And, I will welcome my kids’ friends to the house and not just because it gives me a good excuse to make them clean up their stuff. 😉

But, what if it’s not enough?  What if they remember that I was a moment away from a snap because I didn’t eat soon enough?  Or that I occasionally cry out of frustration because they won’t pick up their toys? 

I can explain/defend it.  Adding another child to the mix makes everything harder.  I am so very glad that he is part of the mix, for the record.  But, it has been an adjustment.  And, I decided long ago that I would rather my children love me than fear me.  So, if I sometimes give too many chances, the trade-off of not remembering me as the angry mom might be worth it.  But, sometimes a little fear might be nice…;)  But, if I finally snap at them after calmly giving them several chances then what’s the point, anyway?  What if “No one listens to me until I start yelling!” is the catchphrase that they remember? 

Each day, I look at their smiling faces and I have to believe that all the smiling, laughing, and hugging that I also do, off-set my frustration moments.  They are happy.  They are silly.  I’ve got to be doing ok, right?

That was my story until the other night.  I had just snapped at the younger three because they were all asking me questions instead of quietly playing in their rooms until lights out.  I used to be able to deal with this better, but now I have trouble separating the voices and answering their questions.  So, I yelled at them to go to their rooms.  And, then I came out to the living room, fuming a bit.

Kaleb looked at me and said “I was going to tell you this earlier, but I’ll tell you now….  Just remember that when you’re mad at us and being a grumpy pants, we all love you.” 

He said it with a smile and calling me a grumpy pants was evidence that he did, in fact, love me and I wasn’t traumatizing him.  But, it hit me in a different way.  I sat there, thinking about it.  They do love me.  And, they don’t have to; especially William and Kaleb who had to get to know me and then decide to love me.  I have been given this gift and, shame on me, for getting mad that William, Antwan, and Lizzie wanted to talk to me. 

I was definitely not a grumpy pants the rest of the night.  I went to bed thinking about it.  I woke up on Thanksgiving morning and thought about it.  And, I thought about it, as I quietly made pies and hoped they wouldn’t wake up until I was done.  And, when William came out to go to the bathroom and impulsively and loudly called my name from the hallway (potentially waking everyone up); I resisted the urge to lose my cool and invited him out to help me make the pies instead.  (That was definitely the best decision that I made that day.)

We had a wonderful Thanksgiving.  I spent the day marveling at our good fortune. 

That afternoon, when we came home, Kaleb got right to practicing on the violin that my sister loaned him.  Brian and I were standing in the driveway exchanging sentiments about how lucky we are when Kaleb came out to play us a song that he had just learned.  He played and it was beautiful.  I praised him and tried to casually walk into the house.  But, I only made it as far as the kitchen when I started to cry.  Brian hugged me as William rushed in to hug me, too.  Undoubtedly, he was wondering what Mommy was worked up about now.  I was quick to tell him that they were happy tears and that I just felt very, very thankful.  I then attacked all of them with overly dramatic hugs and sat down to enjoy the rest of the night.

I don’t want to be a grumpy pants, anymore.  And, I know that I will sometimes.  But, when I do, I’m going to try to remember my teenager’s wise words and throw my grumpy pants out of the window.  Instead, I’m going to put on my happy pants and dancing shoes.  🙂

(And, because I was feeling very inspired, this morning, I started a new blog to keep me on track! http://changecanbegold.blogspot.com/  Please, check it out!)