So far my blog has really been about posting pictures of the kids and little projects around the house. It is amazing how often I go back and read old posts just to look at the kids and remember holidays, birthdays, etc...
I don't really write any thoughts/musings very often, but I frequently compose little blurbs in my head on whatever topic has my interest for the moment. I never really get around to blogging them, but I thought I might start trying to give a more accurate viewpoint of my life-experience. On some level it is because I have a desire to share my thoughts, but there is more to it than that. At this point my blog is just a compilation of snapshots when I have instructed the children to "smile," and so in many ways it is not really an accurate depiction of my real life. And since it is true that I visit my own blog more than any one of my four followers, I thought it might be beneficial to myself to have some reality mixed in with all the birthday pictures and Christmas morning stuff!
So last night we made a quick trip to the ER. Nothing major; Roman had a very small fever (100.9), but that is over the threshold of 100.5 so we followed protocol and took him in to make sure that he wasn't in septic shock from his port.
I knew that we were going to be there a while, so I was collecting a project to do while I was there. As I am in my craft room trying to quickly pick out papers to make some pie boxes for an upcoming baby shower, here comes Domenic. He was tired and fussy and clingy and getting into absolutely everything. So I start yelling "Domenic, stop touching the sewing machine" "Domenic stop playing with the glue gun" "Domenic go watch TV with Quinton" "Domenic don't touch the paper cutter" "Domenic JUST GO!!" etc etc etc... and then finally drag him out of the craft room with him kicking and screaming. Me trying to grab stuff as quick as possible so I am not in the ER all night long.
Roman perks up as soon as we are in the car and asks to listen to some music (Apparently he is not happy with NPR) and we have a CD of our primary program songs in the player. ..... "when there's love at home..."
And then the guilt really starts piling on. I lose my temper with those kids every day. And every night I say to myself, "Rachel, you have got to be kinder and gentler and more loving." And then I wake up the next day to kids fighting over every little thing, pulling on me constantly so I can't get anything done, getting into every last thing in the bathroom while I take a shower, climbing on my lap while I try to get my makeup on, and I lose my temper. And it is only 8:00 AM!!
My kids are really difficult. Are they this way because I am always yelling at them, or am I yelling at them because they are always like this? To my mind, the worst thing you can say to someone is that they are a bad parent. It seems to be a critique that is very biting because it implies a fault not only in the parent, but a ripple effect that their children are being negatively affected. And of course, the idea of your children being hurt and that the parent is the cause of it is such a harsh judgment.
I was talking with a friend the other day whose children are grown: one married off, two in college and she said something that I could really relate to: "I wondered many times if they would cross over that line to just totally lose it and become psychopaths..." and it made me think of how many times as Quinton has been screaming in his room about how much he hates me that I wonder if I should be worried that he is plotting how to kill me in there! I have said to Antonio that if we were wild animals, my children would eat me!
So if you ever come into my house, and I am on the couch, unresponsive, with my children jumping all over me, pulling my hair and kicking me, you'll know I've died, or I might just be trying to sleep.
