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Wednesday, 1 February 2012

Anger Management

Inside I'm drowning, on the outside I'm touching insanity. It's truly not a good look, or one that I am immensely proud of but, unfortunately, over the four years that I have been blessed with my little gems my, already, low tolerance has all but gone.

"put that down please, or you'll break it and then we'll all be very sad", "don't play that close to the fire because you'll burn yourself" "please don't use all the soap in the soap dispenser to wash the sink or there won't be any left to wash our hands with". "please could you put your coat on, it's cold outside and I don't want you to get pneumonia" "don't bite, push, kick, scratch, pill each others hair." "please eat your food or you'll be very hungry later and there are NO snacks!"  and so on and so on. It's endless, I have become worse than the mothers I used to hear screaming at their children, mainly in the supermarkets, telling them that the end of the world was neigh if they put another foot wrong.

As I write this, I know that another foot is going to go wrong and the friendly warning is going to turn in to nuclear bombing. Friendly warnings seem to serve no purpose, other than letting my children know that if they carry on there is at least one more level to get to before it's ear bleeding warfare of insane mother. At this point, they might decide that listening is perhaps the way to go, but only if the goal, they are trying to get to, is less appealing than the manic, screeching fishwife that is their mother. Unfortunately, it rarely is. So beyond screeching fishwife is usually where we end up. Anger takes over and patience goes on holiday to a far flung destination, where the weather's really nice and the children are immaculately behaved.


I am angry, very angry. I can feel it rising up from the soles of my feet. I look and sound like Alan Rickman as The Sheriff of Nottingham in Robin Hood Prince of Thieves.  I know it's not right or good, but when you're doing something, usually to benefit them, and they are whingeing or perilously throwing themselves around, or killing each other, or stealing from themselves, or drawing, painting or printing on walls/furniture and or upholstery for the millionth time in 5 minutes, where do you go? How do you communicate your wants and needs to the people that one has created? How do you manage two little people that are genetically modified to be better than you, to be smarter, faster and all round more canny than you? 

The other day (after a particularly fraught car journey ensemble), my eldest told me that I would go to prison if I left her and her sister on the side of the road to fend for themselves. Yes, this may be true, Social Services might well be called and I might be deported to the nearest correctional facility, detained at Her Majesty's pleasure, but at that very moment in time, it ACTUALLY sounded appealing. 10 X 4, no children, no washing, no ironing, no cooking, no fighting, no nonsense for me to deal with and take responsibility for, HM Prison here I come! Not to do Prison down, I wouldn't wish it on anyone, but to get away from screaming at my children and berating them for things that, with perspective, when it comes, aren't too bad, I'd go anywhere.

The trouble is, that young children, unless well behaved, take over ones life. You cannot leave them unattended for a second to get on with anything or they'll burn the house down, paint it with hand prints, cut all the dogs hair off, eat everything you have in your treat cupboard and then, at the end of it, you won't be able to get an answer as to why, because they aren't rational, they're not even responsible yet. Anger creeps in and ooh, hello Alan!

It's a siege and a quest just to make sure that your pride and joys are well adjusted, well rounded, appealing, intelligent, nice individuals. I want so much for them and us. I want them to be better than me, but the example that I give them is me. How therefore can I expect them to stand a chance and not be angry little psychos with more neuroses than the average mental asylum? It's a hell of a worry. But, as I have said, luckily nature is on hand, to make them better than me anyway, that's science, apparently.

So, may I suggest, and by this I am not preaching, I am really telling myself. One must sit back, relax and take time to let nature take it's course. Things happen because they need to? Ironing can wait, food can wait, cleaning, washing, walking the dog, paying the bills (within reason) can wait. Nothing can be achieved immediately, and if it is making one stressed then one will be impatient/angry and the outcome will be negative. If one has made it this far, and they are still alive, then one can make it through the next bit at a cruise? Let's try it, just for an hour, or a few minutes, it can't get any worse, can it?