Showing posts from April, 2013


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 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."


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'…


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…

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 ti…