December 8, 2006
tiger, tiger
Henry and Charlie have a little tiger toy, one that has a spring and a suction cup. You push the suction cup down and wait for the spring to spring; the tiger pops up and everyone is pleasantly startled. Sometimes the tiger pops up right away, but other times it takes forever for the suction to break.
The uncertainty is often painful.
A lot of the time, I feel like that little spring-loaded tiger. Leslie always says, “You’re so CALM,” usually when my kids are going berserk or crying or fighting, but really I think I’m just tightly wound. In moments of crisis I am typically able to hold it together and speak calmly and rationally, but once we’re through whatever the catastrophe du jour is, little things overwhelm me and, like the tiger toy, I pop at random, unexpected moments.
I don’t think I am alone in this.
I am the most likely to snap at the edges of my day; in the morning when we are scrambling to get to school (to TWO schools, in fact) and at bedtime, when I’m ready to stop being the mommy for a few hours even though the kids–who have been with me all afternoon, playing pirates and reading stories and talkingtalkingtalking–decide that they MUST have five more minutes of my time, and my entire prone body IN THE BED in order to sleep.
Pop.
Yesterday morning was typical: the boys ate breakfast (Charlie cried because he didn’t want pancakes he wanted a WAFFLE and then sat down and cheerfully ate FOUR AND A HALF pancakes), got dressed, brushed teeth, made beds (Charlie cried because he didn’t want to make his bed, which consists of moving the pillows and stuffed friends from the floor to the bed AFTER I do all the other bed-making work). We read a Ricky Ricotta novel (we started it while they ate, and finished it when they were dressed). We got shoes and pullovers and coats on (Charlie cried because he didn’t want to put on a pullover) and got in the car. We dropped Charlie and headed to Henry’s school.
To get from School A to School B, I have to drive almost due east. Recently, my right arm has been aching, at the shoulder, and I have been unable to think why. Until yesterday, when I realized that it’s from holding my hand up to block the sun as it shines directly in my face, in between the visors.
While I am driving full-on into the rising sun with my arm out to keep me from being blinded and killing someone, I have to cross a set of train tracks. Occasionally, there is a train. Every so often, the train is stuck, on the tracks, across the road. The first time this happened, on the way to pick Henry up at school, I had a little panic attack. I was already running late and I couldn’t for the life of me think how else to get to Henry’s school. In the best of circumstances, my sense of direction is poor; in a crisis, I lose all sense of what is where.
It says a lot about me that a train across the road is a crisis, don’t you think?
I’ve figured out the Alternate Route to Henry’s school, so the train-in-the-road scenario doesn’t freak me out so much any more, which is good because yesterday morning? There was a train. Stopped. On the tracks.
I turned around and headed back the way I had come, and Henry said, “Uh, Mom? You’re going the wrong way.”
“Yep,” I said, “There’s a train across the road. We’ll go around.”
Henry said, “Okay.” Then he went back to naming the Christmas carols on the radio and staring out the window.
Somehow, we were running early; we had plenty of time to take the long way around the broken-down train. Silent Night was playing, the lovely Perry Como version, with soothing orchestral music in the background. Henry was peaceful and not at all upset by this little detour. Driving around the block meant that for five minutes the sun was not in my eyes and I could rest my sore arm.
But still, it took everything I had not to scream at the other drivers. Because WHY DO YOU NEED TO CHANGE LANES RIGHT HERE? And also TURN! TURN NOW! CAN’T YOU SEE THAT IT’S YOUR TURN TO GO? GO GO GO! And then when we finally got headed in the right direction again, we were on a road without any trees, and the sun was blinding and my arm really really hurt.
Pop.
I didn’t yell at anyone; I didn’t call anyone a jackass (out loud). I didn’t hit the steering wheel or honk (although I did pointedly refuse to let one woman merge because NO NO NO YOU WERE JUST IN THIS LANE AND YOU CUT SOMEONE OFF TO GET OVER THERE AND NOW YOU WILL STAY THERE BY GOD). We got to school in plenty of time and without any fretting on Henry’s part.
But I was done in by 8:05.
I would like to be calm and unruffled all the time, or at least more of the time. I would like for other people’s driving or Charlie’s ability to lose ONE shoe every single day or Henry’s insistence on telling the same joke four hundred times NOT to irritate me so much. But mostly I feel like that little tiger toy, all wound up and barely hanging on.
Pop.
Posted by Susan @ 10:43 am • Uncategorized
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December 8th, 2006 at 11:46 am, Rayne of Terror Says:
I’m with you on that point today. We’ve been home 4 of 5 weekdays this week because of various illnesses, Henry’s and mine and this is exams. I’ve had to completely rearrange my exam schedule to fit 2 weeks of law school exams into one week and what thanks do I get? Dumping a bowl of popcorn and smushing peas into the white carpet. ACK. STOP THAT NOW. I can deal with the vomit and the diarrhea but you must stop smushing peas this very minute or I’ll explode.
December 8th, 2006 at 12:48 pm, Karyn Says:
Are you channeling me?
I understand completely. My spring and suction gizmo is totally random and that surprise pop is not all that pleasant.
I hear you. I feel your pain here. I’m going to take my Prozac now.
*hugs* You rock, Susan. Springs and all.
December 8th, 2006 at 12:53 pm, Melissa Says:
Tigers of the world, unite! Or pop! Or something. Brilliant analogy.
Forgive my lack of intelligent comment. My 3 kids have been sick for a week now. My brain turned to goo and leaked out my ear 3 days ago.
December 8th, 2006 at 1:03 pm, rachel Says:
I’ve been popping a lot lately.
Congrats on not popping out loud.
I’m really impressed that H could adapt to the different route. BG has a lot of trouble when I am going the “wrong” way.
December 8th, 2006 at 2:29 pm, Rachel Says:
That sounds JUST like me! I am the same way. If you figure out how not to get irritated, please, please, share with the rest of us crazed moms!
December 8th, 2006 at 2:34 pm, Sheryl Says:
I feel you. The other day right after telling my kids “YOU ROCK!” for cleaning the living room, I yelled after telling my 6 yr. old 5 times to throw her yogurt carton away. My 4 yr. old piped up, “I thought you said we rocked?” Schizophrenic anyone?
P.S. I’m really short and have the sun in my eyes a lot. If your visor has a lidded mirror, try putting a lunch-sized paper bag between the mirror and the lid. Or just clip a paper bag to the visor. It works really well.
December 8th, 2006 at 2:42 pm, Liz Says:
One of the only two entrances onto campus has a train track right across it… many, many times those trains park their little engines there for more than 30 minutes at a time… and there are over 25,000 people on this campus. And that is ridiculous!!! I feel you on the train thing — knowing there’s a chance you may have to go all the way around… sometimes wondering if you should begin with the long way as a first choice…. ya never know.
Makes me feel like I could pop at any moment!
I love your blog! =D
December 8th, 2006 at 2:43 pm, Susan Says:
Rachel #2: I find a stiff drink takes the edge off. Ha ha, just kidding! Really.
I try to do the things that I ask the boys to do when THEY are unreasonably upset about something. Henry and I do yoga breathing together when he has a meltdown, and he will remind me now to “Take a deep breath, Mom” when I really start to come unglued. Embarassing, but helpful. Also, pretty smart of him, I think.
And Sheryl, I am TOTALLY going to try that! Because I can barely lift my arm today. Argh. And thank you!
December 8th, 2006 at 3:03 pm, MommyWithAttitude Says:
I’m very impressed by what you accomplish before school in the morning! Pancakes? Bed making? Wow! Just thinking about it is enough to make me pop!
December 8th, 2006 at 3:05 pm, dani Says:
I totally hear you on this today! When I said I had to leave early, boss said “of course, you have to make family a priority.” I responded “no one is a priority right now… I am giving second best to everyone.” (sigh) - ok - vacation in 4 days. 4 days. 4 days.
December 8th, 2006 at 3:31 pm, Susan Says:
Staci, the pancakes are made by the fine fine people at Eggo, and lovingly microwaved by me. Because Henry needs to eat something substantial with his medication, and no way am I actually COOKING at 6:30 in the morning. Or, really, at ANY time.
The beds, though, are just part of my general craziness. I hate an unmade bed. See why I’m on the edge?
Sheesh.
December 8th, 2006 at 4:03 pm, Jenorama Says:
I got to see your calm demeanor on the way to the airport when I was late you to your flight.
I had a sense that the tiger was coiled, but you didn’t pop at me.
Thank you again for that.
December 8th, 2006 at 4:34 pm, The June Cleaver Diaries Says:
See? Once again, you make me realize that I’m NORMAL. You and I have the exact same pop times. The bedtime one is the worst, because I feel guilty about cursing the kids in my head during what is SUPPOSED to be a tender moment.
December 8th, 2006 at 4:42 pm, Kristen Says:
It takes all of my resolve, and a lot of deep breaths, to put up with bedtime. There are so many trips up (bathroom, water, one more question, any random thing) and it never fails that right when I’m settling in to address something NOT kid-related, one of them is at the top of the stairs, bellowing my name. Yeah - pop.
December 9th, 2006 at 7:05 am, Mamacita Tina Says:
I often get that way too, especially when it involves being somewhere by a certain time. I soooo wish our culture wasn’t so time oriented.
December 9th, 2006 at 11:13 am, Becky Says:
I can so relate to this post. I pop at the littlest, stupidest things. I’m great, wonderful even, in a crisis or temper-tantrum or worse. But, after all is said and done my nerves are shot and I am ready to pop! Glad to know I am not alone!
December 9th, 2006 at 11:38 am, amy Says:
How do you see into my brain like this? It’s a little eerie, I tell you…
I can pretty much gauge my stress level by how irritated I am when the kids don’t brush their teeth by the second request that they do so RIGHT NOW. 8:30 p.m. is when I turn into Bitchmother, and woe to the kid who isn’t in bed by then, I tell you.
December 9th, 2006 at 7:07 pm, WriterGrrl Says:
I’ll tell you, for me that was one of the signs that I needed help. And I heart my zoloft, let me tell you. Amazing what a scant 25 mg/day will do for your sanity.
December 10th, 2006 at 7:56 pm, Nothing But Bonfires Says:
I feel like that ALL the time, and I don’t even have small boys crying because of waffle-related crises, so you’re a better woman than I am. I call it my RAGE. And deep breaths don’t help.
(Sometimes mini Toblerones do.)
December 11th, 2006 at 6:57 am, Rebecca Says:
Amen.
To the timing, the catalysts, the pops, all of it. Amen.
December 12th, 2006 at 9:50 am, Velma Says:
I still pop every now and then, usually at night. I’m great in a crisis, but amazingly fragile over the small stuff. Human condition, I guess?