My New Old Bike

When I was a little girl there was no money for new bikes, so my dad bought me one from a junk heap in some guy's backyard. I remember his last name was Hamm, and my bike cost $10.00, and I could still point out the house we bought it from in Martensville. I also remember him telling me that he'd fix it up nice for me, and picking out the can of sky blue spray paint from Canadian Tire. He bought me a plastic white basket and rainbow streamers for the handle bars.

I loved that bike.

I've been wanting to buy one like it for years now, but I've never found one that was the exact right whimsical shade of blue. And if it was the right colour, then it wasn't the right style of bike. Lately though, I've seen more and more old fashioned looking bikes. Last year there was a red one at the lake that I thought about stealing and spray painting more than once.

And then today as Hannah and I were walking to pick up our van from the garage where it was getting a tire fixed a girl drove past me on my bike. So of course, I screamed at her, "WHERE DID YOU GET THAT BIKE!?!?!?!" I was expecting to hear that it was from somewhere I couldn't get to, sometime years ago, for some price that I couldn't afford. But it was from Canadian Tire. She'd bought it the day before. On sale. And I could afford it. Guess how quickly I drove over there after I picked up our van. 

I paid for it and wheeled it out of the store and it was MINE. I pushed it around the corner. I didn't want anyone around to watch my first attempt to ride it. I haven't rode a bike since I lived in Martensville. I had this fear that I was going to be the person who would prove the adage "It's like riding a bike!" wrong. But of course, like everyone else, I remembered... Riding a bike really is just like riding a bike.

That first block I laughed the whole way. I couldn't help it. Once I got the laughing under control I still couldn't wipe the ridiculous smile off my face. I felt ten years old all over again. And imagine my delight when I realized there were no hand breaks or fancy gears. To stop I pedal backwards. Just like in the old days when life was no more complicated than which colour to paint my new bike, and we put those cards from packs of gum on our tires with clothespins, and tossed poor Jynx into a backpack to bring to the store for company. The basket came with the bike, all I need now are some rainbow streamers.

Happy. This bike makes me feel happy right down to my toes.

I hope dad can see me riding it.

Out Of Nowhere

21 days. That's my new record. And now my new goal, since I yelled at the kids tonight and I'm back to zero. And it came out of nowhere, or that's how it seemed, but when I sat down afterwards and thought about it, it didn't really. 

We were having a good day, a GREAT day even. We went to the park, we hung out in the backyard, the kids played together like angels, and then helped me clean up the yard with no complaining. And then they got in the bath and acted like idiots, because they're kids. And when I told them to stop acting like idiots, (not in those words) they didn't. 

Nothing ticks me off faster than kids who continue to laugh and fool around after they've already got in trouble for not doing what they're supposed to be doing. And yelling stops that. Cold. And it feels good to make them take you seriously. And yelling makes that happen. Boy does it. 

It wasn't a huge outburst, but it was enough to know I blew it. In the past after that first outburst I would have yelled at them more, I know I would have because I WANTED to keep yelling. I wanted to really badly. 
 
And then I walked away and I thought to myself, "Was that really justified? Were they really being defiant, or just not taking you seriously? Are you really angry at their behaviour? Or how it made you feel about yourself?"

And there it is. It didn't really come out of nowhere. I yelled at them because of my own feelings of inadequacy... I'm mad at that feeling of being ignored. (I hate that feeling, and it comes from more places than just my kids.) I want to feel like what I say means something so I go and yell at them, which everyone knows makes people immediately stop listening to your words. When you yell at someone all they hear is the anger. We've all been there...I know I have.

On the up side, I went a whole 21 days this time AND when I started yelling I reined it in pretty quickly, mostly in an effort to convince myself that it wasn't a full out yell yet since it was so short... It didn't count? Maybe?

My kids would say it counted I think. There's nothing worse than a day of fun, and then anger coming out of nowhere at you. I remember days like that as a kid, and swearing I'd never be like that, and here I am.

I "fixed" it with apologies, and cuddles, and kisses... I still feel terrible. I need to find a way to manage my emotions when they take me by surprise. I'm getting better at keeping my cool when I know I'm grumpy, when I've been angry all day, I am getting better at reminding myself that that even though I feel mad I don't really have a reason to, and I definitely don't have a reason to take out my feelings on my kids. But those out of nowhere flashes of anger can still catch me off guard and then... Back to zero.

Lame.

Stronger

It hasn't been a day of yelling, but it hasn't been a good day for me. There are times when I feel unequal to who God wants me to be, to who I want desperately to be. Today has been one of those times. Not that I've screwed everything up today, just that there is so much riding on my choices, ALL of my choices... And I get one chance to do this right. One chance to live this life, one chance to raise these children, to be a blessing to others, one chance to make today mean something more than just another 24 hours lived and left behind... So today I feel unequal, but not unloved.

This is what I must hold onto. Not my strength, but Yours.

Yelled

Yelled today. Sort of. I'd have actually said I wasn't yelling, just talking loud, but Sam came upstairs with a friend while I was in my room with the phone, and he said, "Oh, they're screaming. We'll ask later."

Sigh.

So I have to change my counter back to zero from seven days. And don't think that those seven days came easy just because you haven't heard about them. They came hard. Hannah never quits. She even head butted me one day and then screamed at me "OWE MOMMY! YOU HEAD BUTTED ME!" and I managed to keep my cool while she argued with me about whose fault it was that she climbed on the couch and bonked her head on my stationary head. I had to eventually send her to her room. Seriously. She NEVER quits.

It seems unfair that I have to start my counter over for yelling at Glen. Especially since he was being a total tool, and yelling at me on the phone even after I told him more than once to stop yelling at me. And even then... I didn't "yell" yell. I just raised my voice in frustration. And cried. When I am frustrated I cry/yell. People who know me have heard/seen me do it. I don't feel like it's "yelling" but I've been told I'm yelling when I don't feel like I am, so probably it IS fair that I have to set back my counter. And really, I could have just hung up on him when I noticed that I was getting really mad. I made my choice to argue with him.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrr... This post is making me mad all over again. I'm going to go set back my dumb counter and then play some stupid Candy Crush because they're shutting down the Sims games on facebook, so there's no point in playing anymore.

Grumpy. Yes I am grumpy.

Why

I didn't yell at Hannah today when she spilled nail polish on the couch. And I didn't yell at anyone else after even though I was still choked about the nail polish ON THE COUCH.

Why couldn't she have spilled the see-through sparkle polish? WHY purple?

Sigh. It helps when something in the news puts it all in perspective though. My "why" is pretty ridiculous in the face of the big "why" echoing in the hearts of all the people hurting in Boston tonight.

If I could keep the kind of perspective I had today everyday though, I'd be the perfect parent and probably be busy baking muffins or finger painting or something instead of blogging while Sam plays music on the piano for Hannah to dance to while she pretends to be a cat with my bathrobe belt shoved into her underwear for a tail.

I feel lucky. And like I should wash my bathrobe belt.

The Yelling Meter

So, after yesterday's realization that I need some kind of comprehensive definition of what actually constitutes "yelling" I did some thinking, and figured the best definition is whether I feel bad or good about what I'd done or not. That made sense to me... Except for mommy guilt, which makes me feel bad about everything from not buying them the toy they wanted at the store, to feeding the Zoodles for lunch again.

Luckily for me, The Orange Rhino sat down and laid it all out nice and clear for me and all of us yelling parents. I like it. I'm going to copy and paste it here, for my reference:

0 – The everyday voice. The “life is good,” I just love being a mom and having these little conversations voice. Serenity and happiness ooze out with every word. Signs: you think to yourself, wow, this is a nice moment, I think I’ll cherish it and you’re filled with hope that the day is gonna be a good one.
1 – The whisper. The quiet, almost non-audible voice that our pre-school teacher uses that somehow gets attention, respect and follow through. Signs: you can barely hear it and it works like magic.
2 – The re-direct voice. It’s a clear, loving and patient voice that does not show irritation for the situation at hand but instead gently expresses that you don’t like a behavior, why, and offers a new activity. Sign: When you use it you pat yourself on the back for successfully following advice from a parenting magazine, for once.
3 – The firm voice (potentially raised). This is the I am starting-to-mean business voice accompanied with occasional raised eye brows and introduction of idle threats. Signs:  you are still calm and there are no hurt feelings, but you’re wondering when (not if) you’re gonna snap and you are growing impatient, quickly. 
4 – The “oopsie” snap. Stop! Alright! Ouch! This snap is starting to get nasty, but hasn’t gotten there yet. It isn’t a long tirade, it’s just a quick sharp voice where you stop yourself…it’s just enough to make the kids stop what they are doing for a second and think whether or not they will continue annoying behavior. Signs: blood pressure is picking up a little, but you are back to calm quickly and think “oh sh*t I really didn’t mean to do that.”
5 – The nasty snap. Darnit! Knock it off!  Cut it out! This snap might be short, but it’s filled with venom. Signs: blood is starting to boil inside; vocal chords are warming up, preparing for a long tirade; you think to yourself “oh sh*t” was that a nasty snap? If you think it, it was.
6 – The yell.  It’s loud. You know it’s loud. And it’s mean. You simply know you’ve crossed the line, there is no question. Signs: kids tears are a pretty good indicator, as are doors slamming, kids screaming back at you that you’re mean and they don’t love you any more.
7 – The raging scream. A notch up from “the yell.” It’s totally intentional and is filled with much more nastiness, hurtfulness and hysteria – on both sides. Signs: body shaking, often hard to stop doing it; results in feelings of massive guilt and shame in the screamer (at least for me) and definite feelings of shame, sadness, and fear in the kiddos; throat throbs afterwards.

Zero to four is acceptable, five to seven will drop me back to day one on my days of no yelling counter... Which I can move to "1" today. (Look over to your right.) One day of no yelling. It was close though. Hannah is incredibly difficult to deal with sometimes. She screams... A LOT. (I wonder where she got that from?) And she growls at people when she's mad at them. And today she told me she hates me, which she's only done once before. I don't even remember what started it, but I managed to keep my cool. Ben helped, his appalled gasp made me laugh. Ben would NEVER scream that at anyone. Ben. Why can't all of my kids be as easy to turn into nice people as Ben was?

Let's Get Real

Things haven't been going well lately. Actually, things haven't been going well for a long time. In many ways I've given up.

Which I'm okay with. For myself.

I am not okay with giving up on my kids though. And let's face it, when a mom gives up on herself she is giving up on her kids. It's selfish and, in many ways, borders on abuse and neglect. My anger, depression, and lack of motivation hurts my kids. And all of the things I try to do to make up for it...

...

DON'T. Period.

So this has to end. My life has been floating past me for a while now and that's not okay either. At this point I really don't give a crap for myself, but in the meantime my kids are being raised by someone I don't want to be. There are lots of reasons and explanations and facets and all that jazz, and I may or may not get into that here, but let's start with one thing:

I yell. At my kids. And at Glen. And, if you upset me, I might yell at you too. I have a really hard time controlling my emotions, I always have, but that doesn't make it okay. I tend to excuse myself, but I need to stop. 

I read this great blog today about a woman who stopped yelling for A YEAR. A whole year! And then some! And I figure, if she can do it... Why can't I? Oh, don't get me wrong... I don't expect that I will be able to just stop like she did. I expect it will take me a while before I can make it through a day, and then a week, and then a month... But I WILL DO IT. And I will keep track of it here. I probably won't blog every day, but I'll let you know when I succeed and when I fail.

So... Let's roll. Day one. I yelled at Ben when he put popcorn seasoning into a bag of dill pickle chips. It was more "loud exasperation" than full out yelling, but if I wouldn't do it with you sitting on the couch, then it counts. Actually, I probably would have. I may need to think of a better definition... Either way, tomorrow I will do better. I mean it.

(Also, I will start wearing a bra at home when I'm wearing thin t-shirts. Because my boys should discover later in life, like every other man (and, let's face it, woman, I was surprised too) that boobs like the ones they see in National Geographic articles about African tribes people happen in Canada too.)