Nicolle was reading Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother on the couch.
"I can't decide if people like that are brave or stupid," I said to her.
"You mean, to lay it all out there like that?" she asked.
"Yeah, to write about all your flaws and mistakes. To be that real, for the whole world to read. I could never do that," I answered.
"But you do do that," she protested. "You're real on your blog. You write about a lot more than I ever would."
"Really?" Her answer surprised me. I guess I'm more real than others. I don't make everything sound perfect when it's not. I'm not afraid to put pictures of my messy house, my unkempt hair, my un-make-up-ed face. I talk about struggles and triumphs.
But I still censor. A lot.
However, I appreciate "realness." Life isn't always a bed of roses, as they say, and we all have things we struggle with. Some more than others. I always find it inspirational when I read blogs, books, articles, what have you, that are real. Where the author isn't afraid to pull back the curtain to an extent and let you see life as it's really lived. It validates me. Makes me feel like I'm not the only horrible person trying to be a better person.
I had a day today. A horrible-person day. And it's too bad, because it started out as a pretty good day. But that's how most of my horrible-person days start out.
I struggle with impatience. And anger issues. These have been the biggest stumbling blocks in my life, up to this point at least. In some ways, having young children has helped me make great strides in overcoming these hurdles. But in other ways, I've failed even more miserably. It's a daily struggle, one for which I constantly seek the Lord's help and guidance. And while I have faith in the Lord's promise that He can make "weak things become strong," it can only happen with effort on my part.
The problem with me is that I have an "and" problem. That's what Michael calls it. I'm very good at creating "lists" of things that are wrong, things that are annoying me, things that aren't going the way I want them to... I add and add and add to the list.
The house is a mess. Constantly.
and
I never get enough sleep.
and
The girls are fighting and whiny most days.
and
It's because I'm failing them as a mother, because all we do is sit at home all day every day.
and
I'm not doing anything to enrich their lives.
and
I can never get ahead on an organization project I start, because of three very demanding children under the age of 5 who constantly need me.
and
I haven't cooked a good meal in who can remember when.
AND....
You get the idea. I'm very good at the "ands." When things are going well in life, I tend to forget the ands. Or I use the same principle, but on happy topics. Like the girls are so well-behaved and the garden is growing and our house is so perfect for us and I love my new mini-van...
I try to focus on the good ands. Or at the very least, ignore the bad ones. But the problem with being good at ands means that if one thing on the list comes to mind, they all do, and then BOOM! Anger explosion on whoever happens to be within a 25-foot radius.
Today my visiting teachers came over to a disaster house. Again. For the 250th time. You'd think I'd be over it by now. In some ways I am, but it doesn't help that one of my VT's has an impeccable house. Always clean. But the visit was nice and uplifting. And ironically about our reactions as parents. And how the multitudinous small-crisis reactions matter more than the few big-crisis reactions. My big problem in life.
I then make the very scary decision to take all three kids to my postpartum doctor's appointment. I bring the portable DVD player and Tangled for the girls. I prep and prep and prep them on expected behavior. I nurse Christian in the parking lot before going in. The appointment goes great. Much better than expected. I'm beaming with pride and lathering on the praise as we head back out to the car. I'm overjoyed that I can take three kids somewhere other than the grocery store.
I'm riding my high all the way to Costco where we need milk and gas and whatever other goodies it has to offer. Shaelyn asks if we can stop at the sample carts. "You can have whatever you want. You were such a good girl at Mommy's doctor," I reply. And here we are running two errands on the same day! Christian is asleep in the wrap, and the girls are behaving in the front of the shopping cart.
10 minutes into the trip, Rachelle pulls Shaelyn's hair. Shaelyn smacks her in return. "Keep it together" I mutter to myself under my breath. I calmly rebuke each child. They obey. Next time it happens, I pull out my creative parenting skills and distract them both into fits of giggles. "Look at me, master parent," I think to myself. At the very least, I'm proud of not letting my anger get the better of me. And sad to say, I'm proud every. single. time I can say that.
But then Rachelle makes Shaelyn spill her strawberry smoothie sample all over her dress. And Shaelyn starts screaming like a baby. And yells at Rachelle. Who also starts screaming like a baby. I feel the self-control slipping. I snap at the kids. But very briefly, and then try to deal with the situation calmly and rationally. Ok, minor set-back, but still better than what it could have been.
Until Shaelyn cries out really loud, "I want to go somewhere FUN! I HATE being at home all the time!"
Embarrassment sets in. Followed quickly by frustration. And then anger. And the "and list" makes its appearance. Headed by the "I'm a terrible mother" topic and makes its way through the homemaking skills, the lack of sleep, the embarrassment of the morning's visitors, and BOOM!
The children were the unfortunate recipients of some very nasty remarks made by their mother in a very low, but very scary, growl so that fellow shoppers could not overhear.
And as always, the resulting devastation on the kids' faces, coupled with my own guilt, drives me into a downward spiral of depression. "Hypocrite!!!!" is all my mind can scream at me. I have all these high-minded parenting ideals, but this is where I find myself more often than I like to admit.
Is it cathartic to write this out? Is Tiger Mother onto something? I'm not sure.
But I will say that I've been reading and re-reading and re-reading again this excellent article by Julie Beck. It is my very favorite talk of hers by far. It inspires me, humbles me, and motivates me. I refuse to let it depress me. I highly recommend it.
I guess that's what I can say about this struggle of mine. I get back up. Some times take longer than others. It would be easy to give in to the depression and feelings of failure, hopelessness, and ineptitude. But that would be turning my back on faith. And the promise that my efforts magnified by the Atonement can change me. And make this weakness of mine a strength.
Here's to a more patience-filled, less anger-filled tomorrow.
