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The Angry Place

Anyone know that Tim McGraw song, 'Angry All The Time'? Sigh.

The other night my husband told me that one of the ways he tries to help around the house is just getting the kids away from me. "Sometimes you seem so angry with them," he said, "and it just seems like the most helpful thing to do is give you space." 

He's right, although I wouldn't admit that outright when we were talking. I do get angry. There are days where I've hit my Whining Threshold by noon and there are still six more hours until Daddy gets home. Days when Jack won't cooperate and play quietly in the afternoons during Molly's nap time and I don't get a break. Days when Molly wails if I'm not holding her every minute. Days when I feel like the only way I'm going to survive is via the DVD player. 

We had this conversation a few days ago and I privately resolved to do better. We had a great weekend and the kids spent one night with grandparents. I should be refreshed, my quota of patience replenished. But today Jack fought me in the afternoon, Molly was clingy, neither kid ate dinner, there was constant fighting and shrieking and crying and what place was I in when my husband came home? The Angry Place. The "these kids are going to bed early because I cannot stand any more of this" place. The "leave me alone, don't talk to me" place. 

My friends tell me they have this place too. Sometimes you can't avoid it. You feel like you're doing everything you can and the day still blows up in your face - and blows up at lunch time or nap time or some other time that's hours and hours away from two parent relief. And it's not EVERY day. Some days I get an hour or two to myself in the afternoons, and that makes all the difference. But the angry feels like most days right now. It feels so frustrating. 

This afternoon I called my mom just to hear a voice that wasn't demanding something of me. She thinks the kids might still be readjusting to life post-vacation. The time change, the schedule, why not? It's been a week, though. Can that really be it?

Ugh, I hate it. I hate that I get like this. I feel like a nicer mom, a better mom, a more-effective-at-disciplining-her-children mom would not be sitting here on the couch writing an angry angsty blog post while her husband sweetly reads the kids their bedtime stories. 

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