I THINK I CHEATED ON YOU

Had a really bad afternoon with the kiddos yesterday. Really. Really. Bad.

For whatever reason (read: taking advantage of the fact that Mommy is traveling), they decided it would be a good idea to fight in the truck all the way home, NOT do their chores, smear toothpaste all over the bathroom counter, and turn their rooms into landfills. And while, no, none of this is really new, it was all at one time, and all on top of a couple of weeks now of Amy & I continually badgering them to get their shit together, as it seems, since about Spring Break that they have just turned themselves off.

So, after spending a better part of the afternoon picking up after them again, re-doing their chores again, piling things from around the house in front of their bedroom doors again because there was no way...literally NO WAY...to even enter without stabbing your foot on a teeny tiny sword, or a barrette, or a plastic orangutan arm, or something or other, I just couldn't ask them one. more. time. to straighten things up or else.

They had already had their timeouts. They had already had their favorite babies taken away. And they were even grounded for the rest of the afternoon, relegated to their separate rooms, which they were to have spotless by bedtime, or at least, no longer a hazard to walk into.

Did they have cupcakes at school today, I ask them. No. Did they have any sugar from anywhere else? No. Was something going on at school, with other kids, with their teachers that I didn't know about? No. Did they think this behavior was acceptable? No. Did they think they were doing a good job of being respectful, and contributing to the family, and being responsible for their own things? No.

So, then why the hell, as we're walking down the stairs holding hands to go brush our teeth after dinner, which, once again I had to stand watch over and prod them to eat like 3, 4, 5 times. Why then, when we turned the corner into their rooms did it look a gajillion (yes, gajillion! do you have any idea how much that is?!?) times worse than before? 

Not only had not a single toy, book, crayon, or stuffed animal been put away, they'd actuall multiplied!! By the hundreds of thousands. And it felt like that moment in Gremlins (totally dating myself here), you know the one I'm talking about, when they walk in and see that the sweet little innocent Gizmo has sprouted little cancerous demons from his back that were intent on and quite successfully destroying everything in sight?

And then I felt like I must've looked like a Tom & Jerry cartoon. Tom standing there, Jerry outwitting him again, his whole face turning bright red, the steam streaming out of his ears, his neck stretching upwards as his head prepares to literally explode, and then the top of his scalp shoots off into the air and flames burst from inside his skull to the sound of a train whistle. TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes, just like that.

And then I started screaming. Bloody murder screaming. Grabbing my hair, kneeling on the floor, banging my head hands on the table kind of screaming.

And that's all you're going to hear about that.

We hugged and kissed and said our I'm sorries and I forgive yous and I'll try not tos before they went to sleep. And then I logged on to blog about it...and couldn't.

Couldn't fess up to you the magnitude of awfulness I felt. The humiliation and shame for breaking down like that. The sheer embarrassment of such an event that was so beyond just another bad mama moment that I just. couldn't. say. it.

To you.

So, I slunk away to other mommyblogger sites. And I vented there. Like a neighborhood bar they were, the blogtender welcoming, pouring me another drink of been-there-done-that, and encouraging me to drown my sorrows in self-deprecating prose and self-indulgent I'm-such-a-failures.

And I bloghopped for hours, desperately seeking the cyberarms of compassion and commiseration from other moms. A mom site from Hawaii.  One in Australia.  Another from the misty woods of Tennessee.  And I cried as I wrote.  And I cursed my lack of self-control.  And they patted me on the back and nodded their heads and poured me another round.

And it was good.

Except that this morning I woke up feeling guilty. Like I'd cheated on you. With them. Couldn't find the solace I needed here. Afraid to let you in, to let you too close, thinking if you saw how ugly it was, how ugly I was, that you wouldn't be here tomorrow. That you wouldn't let me come back...and admit my failures...and try again.

So, there it is.  And here I am.

And no, you're not Kate and I'm not Jon, but for the blog's sake, I think we've got to find a way to get through this. Together. Somehow.