Friday, July 20, 2012

ANGER MANAGEMENT

I know I have been MIA for a few months, call it writer’s block, call it neglect, call Miss Cleo for an answer.  It’s all about the Present, Ladies.  For today, I experienced an untamed, yet oft-repeated fury.  I am talking veins-stand-out-in-forehead fury.  Dear-God-don’t-let-there-be-hidden-video cameras-fury.  What invokes such, you ask? 

JUST TELL ME WHY--IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND RIGHTEOUS--MY KIDS MUST BE TOLD 17 TIMES TO DO THE SAME FRICKIN THINGS EVERY MORNING, FIVE DAYS A WEEK???           

In what language does, “Come brush your teeth,” translate into “Run like hell up the stairs???”  “Put your shoes on” means “Stare blankly at the television, mouth agape?”  “Come get in the car” translates into “Dive under the sofa cushions?”  And this, my friends, includes my 9 year old!  What gives???  Oh man, by the time I have everyone herded in, I have grown fangs, claws, and speak in howls rather than the King’s English.  Animal Control showed up at my house this morning.  It’s starting to wear on a Sister. 

I searched for suggestions online to decrease the stress of the morning hassle: 

*Let your child know there will be consequences.  The consequence is my head exploding off of my body. 
*Wake up earlier. That's just more time for me to be pissed off.
* Speak in a calm and firm voice.  I do that.  The first 15 times. 
*Get more organized.  Organizing isn’t loud enough.
*Lower your expectations.  Well expect my ass to be using tear gas next time I get resistance.

Now did that put the ANGRY back in Angry Working Mother???

It looks like I am back. Stay tuned.  
 
(N.B.--There are recent studies that shows a certain amount of anxiety is actually desirable, as it ups your performance.  Based on the levels I reach every single morning, my "performance" should be of Olympic caliber. If chasing your child with a toothbrush, while wearing a robe and trying not to flash the neighbors is an Olympic event, I'm primed for Gold.  Hmmm...if my Olympic prowess gets me to London to view the likes of that hot swimmer-boy Ryan Lochte, I might be onto something.  I am all about suffering for my country).

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