Life can pass from serenity to chaos and back to serenity again in a 15-minute window when you have young kids.
I totally lost my rag tonight and used a word I never wanted to use in front of the girls. DH was meant to be doing bath time while I was cooking a lovely quiche for mine and his dinner. I heard loud shouts emanating from the bathroom so I thought I should venture upstairs to help out.
I found DH unsuccessfully trying to rinse MiniM#1’s hair while she shouted “TOO COLD! TOO HOT!!” and for mummy to “GET ME OUT OF THE BATH NOW!!!”. Meanwhile MiniM#2 was crying because she was rubbing soap suds into her eyes. Still feeling drained from the vomiting virus less than 48 hours ago, I grabbed the shower head from DH’s hands to rinse the soap from her eyes. MiniM#2 screamed and resisted while MiniM#1 screamed for “MUMMY” to “GET ME OUT OF THE BATH NOW!!” She still had shampoo in her hair.
I pulled the shower head to try to rinse her head but her little sister was sitting on the hose. I tried asking DH to move her (since he was blocking my access to her) but he was busy raising his voice above the general din (“MUMMY GET ME OUT OF THE BATH NOW!!”) to ask me which conditioner he should use for MiniM#2’s hair because the tea tree oil one had run out (!). My voice became buried in the noise and everyone provided resistance to what I was trying to do or say. Too many voices, too many people in the bathroom…
I finally managed to tell DH in no uncertain terms to use whichever frigging conditioner he wanted and I rinsed out MiniM#2’s shampoo. I told her to climb out of the bath onto my lap as I’ve strained my back and lacked the strength to lift her I felt so weak from having been so sick. “I WANT YOU TO CARRY ME!!” She kept screaming until finally, I hauled her out of the water, my back aching, my tired body groaning under the weight.
“PICK UP MY ANIMALS!” She shouted. I couldn’t stoop down carrying her at the same time so had to ask DH several times if he could do so. He picked up the wrong toys. So, it was then that I shouted out a loud expletive and he got the correct toys as I felt my back about to break. I whisked my whining child away still shouting (me this time!) and she dropped her toys on the floor wailing at me to pick them up again. I shouted some more and then dropped her onto her bed, flouncing off downstairs to check on the quiche.
The wails from the bedroom subsided and all was eerily quiet in the bathroom. I popped up briefly to dry MiniM#1’s hair, complain to her about her behaviour and reiterate my exhausted state. “I’m calming down now mummy, I’m calming down,” she sobbed helplessly so I hugged her until DH came in to continue drying both the girls’ hair and I returned to the kitchen.
Suddenly all three family members appeared before me; MiniM#1 apologising for shouting and behaving badly and DH issuing a rare and precious apology for shouting too. Poor MiniM#2 had nothing to apologise for – she must have been as distressed by everything as I was, and I cursed myself for losing my rag like that. All three of them gave me a hug and a kiss and I melted inside.
I feel exhausted tonight and too tired to write a meaningful conclusion. Maybe there isn’t one. Or just that life with small kids is challenging and when you care it’s hard not to lose your rag. And that mums shouldn’t beat themselves up about it when they do. It’s normal and part and parcel of being human. And your kids know they love them to the moon and stars and back. I told MiniM#2 again as I kissed her goodnight “I’m sorry I shouted darling…” and she said “No I’m sorry mummy. I’m sorry I shouted.”
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Calamitous Mummy 