At Seven Months: The Implosion

There is no way to sugar-coat it: this week sucked.

The kids would whole-heartedly agree. I don't know if it was something in the water, the lunar cycle, or June Gloom. But the kids and I were simply not in sync. And the denouement of our week's drama took place last night.

Having returned home very late from a rehearsal for Elizabeth's dance recital, the three of us were whipped. Understandably, their desire to play and goof off completely trumped any desire to catch some z's. I relented. Even though it was after 8:00 p.m., I sent them upstairs to play for a bit while I made lunches for school, whipped up a batch of chocolate chip cookie dough, fed the dogs, etc. I think that David noticed more than anyone that it was getting later and later, as he kept calling down to me, asking when I'd be coming upstairs. For about an hour, my reply was, "pretty soon. I just have a few more things to do."

David ultimately took his own shower, and I plodded upstairs at around 9:00. Once bathed and in our jammies, I proceeded to tuck the kids into bed as usual. Lullabies were sung, and hugs and kisses were exchanged.

The tranquility lasted for about one minute. Elizabeth called out from her room, "Mommy! I want to find my binkie" Note that her binkie (aka pacifier) had been MIA for about three days. I was in no hurry to hunt it down given that I am hoping that she'll wean herself from it one of these days. I replied, "sweetie, we can look for it tomorrow."

"NOOOOOO!!! I want my binkie!"

Typical back and forth took place, with me getting sharper and sharper in my replies. I finally said, "Fine. I will look behind your bed."

Sure enough, the white and green binkie was lodged between the bed and the wall, and down just far enough to make it difficult for even my skinny hand and arm to snake through to get it.

But I tried. I wedged my hand down as far as I could, but all I did was push the binkie down further from my grasp. I grabbed a small plastic kid's hanger, which only pushed the binkie further and further down. Eventually, the hanger slipped from my grasp. I grabbed the stem of a silk flower that was laying around, in a last-ditch effort to scoot the binkie up. The stem fell off, too. I gave up, and told Elizabeth that I'd already hurt my hand that that we'd get it tomorrow.

"NOOO!!!!" she screamed, with tears running down her face! The tantrum started. She screamed. She threw herself on the bed. And I lost it.

"FINE!" I said. I threw her end table away from the bed, causing the lamp to fall off. I tossed (literally) aside her small chairs, causing thumping sounds on the wall. And I angrily pulled out her trundle bed to see if I could get the God-blessed binkie. I was screaming at her the whole time.

By this point, David ran into her room, sobbing. "Mommy! I'm sorry for whatever we did! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

The three of us just stood there and stared at each other for a minute. I looked around her room, taking in the results of  my own tantrum. I assured myself that I was, in fact, the world's most horrible mother.

I manged to get her pacifier and hand it to her. I pushed the trundle bed back, uprighted her night stand and lamp, and put the chairs back. I crawled into my own bed and just lay there in a fetal position for a few minutes.

Then I got up, and asked David and Elizabeth to cuddle with me for a few minutes. David agreed. "I want to hug it out!"

"Me, too, sweetie," I said. Boy, did I ever want to hug it out.

So the three of us climbed into my bed, and started to talk. I began by telling them how sorry I was for having my own tantrum. I also asked them if they agreed that it had been a hard week. They both nodded their sweet heads.

"I wish more than anything that Daddy lived back down here with us," David said, between sobbing gasps. Elizabeth just spooned next to me, fervently sucking on her binkie, and looking up at me with her big green eyes. "I want him to work at Yahoo again!"

"I know, buddy. I know," I said. I tried to explain to him, as well as I could to ensure that he'd understand, that Glen's work at Facebook was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, noting that Facebook is likely one of the hottest companies to work for in the U.S., if not the world. I said, "well, the option always remains for us to move up north."

"No!" David said. "I love Foothill (his school) SOOOOO much!! We can move after I graduate!"

"Well, by the time you finish at Foothill, Elizabeth may still be there. And I highly doubt that Daddy will still be up north."

And then David reminded me again of how very wise he is. He said, "I just want us to talk about how we can do better and not fight so much and make this work while Daddy is gone."

After several hugs and kisses, I said, "I do, too. What do you think we can do?"

The rest of the conversation is a tad fuzzy, as we were all falling asleep by then. But suffice it to say we ended the conversation in giggles and tickles, which is a far cry from tears and shouting..David eventually decided that he wanted to sleep in his own bed, and padded off at around 10:30. Elizabeth and I fell asleep.

I woke up this morning, full of the hope and promise of a new day. Not so Elizabeth. She was highly put out that David had plans to go to a birthday party after school and that she was not invited. Note, of course, that I completely understand and respect the party host's wishes to not include siblings; at some point, there can be too many kids. I get it. And I tried to explain to Elizabeth that these were just the rules we'd have to follow.

She would have none of it. Meltdown #2 commenced. She refused to get dressed, and when she wasn't hollering at me, she kept her eyes affixed on the Nick Jr. television show, "Max and Ruby." David, wisely enough, kept quiet.

And then my temper flared again. "Elizabeth! I'm done talking about this! I know what it's like to not be invited to a birthday party! Believe me, it happened to me all the time! It's awful! I get it! I can't do anything about it!"

I huffed upstairs to gather a few more things, and when I came down, Elizabeth was still in her jammies. That did it. Threats of taking away her toys, television privileges, and other sanctions ensued. This only caused the tantrum to escalate. By the time we got into the car, it was 7:55 - much later than I am comfortable leaving for school - and I was beyond tense.

It also didn't help that while driving to school, David mocked Elizabeth's pronunciation of a few words, just because he thought it sounded funny. Long story short, we all parted company in a huff.

While I am overjoyed that Glen comes home this weekend and is home ALL next week, I can't help but think it might be safer for him to stay up north.