I was lucky enough to receive one of 50 copies of a book by Lisa Garrigues called "Writing Motherhood." It's a fun, smooth book dedicated to encouraging women (mainly, Mothers) to write. To write frequently, to write with more freedom... Simply: to Write.
I'll say this: I loved it. This book acknowledges that everyone has a story to tell and that each of us that has the desire to do so, can record it with heart and pride. She never ONCE talked down to me as a reader. Lisa makes it a point to remind us that no one is perfect, nor should we attain to become perfect. Especially not when it comes to writing! Writing should be from the heart. From the soul... Abandon the rules and Let Go!
In that spirit, several bloggers are banding together and accepting a writing project. A sort of meme, actually, when you get down to it.... Please check out New Jersey Moms Blog for the lead stories and continue through the comments to find the full list of everyone participating. It should be interesting to see the different takes on the same topics! Lisa Garrigues will be commenting and interacting as the posts go up! Pretty exciting stuff...
My take on "My most outrageous or inexcusable bad Mothering Moment:"
Only one? Heh... Seriously, though: the list is endless. How shall I zero in on one moment, without negating the disgust I feel for the others?
I will confess that one situation that stands out quite clearly is, unfortunately, not unusual.
In order to understand this disastrous breakdown, one must understand the child with which it happened.
Evan. Oh, my Evan... To describe him is to describe the weather: always changing, always moving. Sometimes fantastic, sometimes destructive. Rarely does he move through a room without knocking someone or something over. Never quiet, he is a human tornado, picking up and dropping off with little warning or reason. How can you blame the weather for being what it is? How can you fault the rain for falling or the wind for blowing? Nor can I blame Evan for being the zesty sparkler that he is.
However, all of this "zest" and "weather" from a 6 year old boy can wear a Mama down. He simply cannot be contained nor can I rationalize with him. Truly, the phrase "in one ear and out another" is giving him more credit than I think is possible as it rarely goes IN the first ear to begin with! You can surely imagine how I feel at the close of the day. You can surely understand the frustration I feel as we try to accomplish basic tasks such as bath time.
After washing Corinne first, I turned to Evan and began to sudse his head up.
Mom - "Evan, hold still. EVan, HOLD still, I can't get the soap lathered! "
Evan - bouncing around and splashing his sister...
Mom - "EVAN. I said STOP and I am getting really ticked off!! Cool it!! EvvvAAANN! EVAN!!"
(Continue on for a few more minutes... You get the picture...)
Evan - still bouncing around, splashing his sister (whose cries are echoing off of the walls), sticking his butt up in the air and singing some crazy song...
(Here's where it gets ugly)
Mom - at the top of my lungs, in my ugliest, scariest, cruelest impersonation of "Mommie Dearest" "EVAN!! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!? WHY CAN'T YOU JUST BEHAVE?!? WHY MUST YOU MAKE ME SO ANGRY??? DO YOU ENJOY IT? CAN'T YOU SEE HOW FURIOUS I AM?!? STOP IT!! STOP IT!!! STOP ITTTTT!!!!"
Evan's face... Sigh. I can barely describe it. The shame I feel over the fear I saw in his eyes... The fury I felt inside, boiling and bubbling over, I cannot justify. He's SIX. Yes, he is wild. Yes, he was misbehaving. Yes, I had had a long day. But I can NOT excuse my behavior. I am the supposed "adult" here, and was acting not only like a child, but like a spoiled, bully-child.
I DID apologize, but only with the follow-up of "..I was wrong, BUT, you did blah blah blah..." Not a true apology. Not a good enough reason to frighten him to weeping and cowering in the tub. My baby boy. My whirling dervish that brings just as much joy and love as chaos and destruction...
Sadly, I get pushed to and over the brink more than I'd like to admit, even to myself. I'm a work in progress, trying to morph into a better mom. A better woman. A better ME.
I guess that's all any of us can attempt...
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