It started upstairs. Over laundry that wasn’t put away. (Why do I hate putting away laundry so much? I have no problem folding and washing it… it’s the PUTTING it away that I detest.) Anyway- that’s where it started.
Or maybe it started with a craving for chocolate. And chips and salsa.
Then…It carried on downstairs. Where there were dishes in the sink even though the dishwasher was not full. (well, it wasn’t over full anyway.)
What carried on? Nothing…. just a little Mommageddon. AKA: when I throw a tantrum that would make a toddler blush.
“Why can’t anyone else do anything around here? I thought we ended slavery. I am not a maid service. I should not have to clean up after these people.”
Mommageddon always starts in my head- then explodes out my mouth like a nuclear attack. The fallout is (usually) temporary- and to be honest- my guys know to stay clear until it subsides. But this time- it didn’t stop with my mouth.
Not when I noticed that the mail person had run over my fancy pants mailbox. because no one had shoveled.
By this point I was furious. And possibly- psychotic. I grabbed my coat and stomped into my shoes. I stomped all the way to the garage. I grabbed the snow shovel and shoveled.
It felt pretty good. It was as if the anger was scooped in every shovel full, at least for a while.
Then it felt bad. Really bad.
So bad, in fact, that I ended up at the ER.
Which means- that my husband and I will spend the afternoon back at my neurologist where I will have to inform him of my stupidity and the ensuing Mommageddon. (It didn’t make the news. Funny- I know for a fact that Mommageddon’s happen all over the world- and rarely make the 5:00. Maybe it’s because they so often happen around 5…..while we’re trying to cook dinner….)
I’m hoping he will pat me on the head, reprimand me for being stupid and tell me it’s fine. Just be more careful in the future.
He may not. He may suggest I get my head screwed on straight. Literally. (If only it were that simple.)
So… I can hear you asking the question…
“Will she ever learn?”
The answer is: I hope so. I have got to come to grips with my limitations. I have got to get a grip on my frustration. I have got to reset my expectations.
To be honest- I debated even posting about this. It’s embarrassing. Especially since 2 weeks ago the same doctor told me my second surgery had failed to fuse.
Anger makes me stupid. But it doesn’t make me DO stupid things. That, was a choice. A choice compounded by hormones and stress. But a choice, none the less.
So now- I’m paying a price. in pain. In MORE stress. Which is usually the effect of Momageddon’s.
I know I’m not alone.
So.. if you’re having one of those days….. stop what you’re doing. Take a deep breath. Not all damage is visible in x-rays…..but Mommageddon’s cause damage. to ourselves. To our loved ones….. leave the shovel alone. Find a healthy way to deal with your anger. Exercise. (don’t roll your eyes at me.. it works.) talk. Pray. And maybe… let it go.
Snow eventually melts. Children will come looking for clean clothes when they need them.
You’re not alone. You can survive Mommageddon.
So can I.
Dear Lord- I hate it when I get stupid. I hate having limitations but even more than that- I hate losing my temper. Please help me to cope with frustrations in healthy ways. Please help me to let go of expectations that I need to let go of and please.. help me get my head screwed on straight. I love you Lord—- amen PS Lord—the whole PMS thing? Really. I’d like to quit. Not a fan.
Note: this post has nothing to do with my family…. I was PMSy and stupid…..this wasn’t THEM. It was me. Trust me. ;)