by Kristin Castle

Created on: September 03, 2010

I was voted “most nonchalant “ in my senior class.  I have always prided myself on my patience.  And before I had kids, I always said that the one thing I would surely do differently from my mother was to just not be so crazy.  I always thought that if she would have just asked nicely instead of nag or talked openly and calmly when I screwed up instead of scream like a lunatic, surely I would have been more willing cooperate or hear her side.  But too often, I just wrote her off as crazy:

“She’s only this angry because she’s crazy.  I mean, who cares if I threw a big party in her house while she was away.  And who asked her to sit up all night waiting for me to come home just because she had no idea where I was.  That’s her problem.  She’s crazy.  I’m glad I’m not crazy.”

 A few months ago, I was outside my front door trying to hang  a wreath.  My 6 year old and two year old were playing in the living room, loudly, and my nearly two month old was sleeping, finally, upstairs.  My m other-in-law, who lives next door had just dropped the kids off after  taking them for just a moment so I could try and get the baby to sleep after a long day.   I stood in the doorway and said, “please quiet down, the baby is sleeping upstairs.”  “Ok” they respond, half-ass through the grandma induced sugar rush they are clearly burning off.  Two seconds later (literally) , two sugar induced screams wake my finally sleeping baby.  I turn around and yelling;

 “Great!  Thanks!  Now you woke up your brother.”

“You’re welcome” my daughter snarls in some sort of sick delight. 

Now comes the screeching at the top of my lungs, the kind of screech that scratches your throat and gags you mid-rant;

“EXCUSE ME!  WHO DO YOU THINK YOU’RE TALKING TO?  AND WHAT EXACTLY DID YOU NOT UNDERSTAND ABOUT WHAT I JUST SAID!?”

The screeching has stopped both kids in their tracks for a moment.  The gagging from the screeching adds a little extra crazy and actually makes them think mommy might be turning into some kind of monster right before their eyes.  And in this moment, I turn to attempt to hang my wreath again when my mother-in-law rounds the corner with a step-stool in hand to help me.  My throat is still scratchy as I thank her. 

• 1
• 2
• Next Page >>