Without further adieu: Mothering FAIL

Or rather, I guess I should say mothering and language FAIL.  Or growth FAIL.  Or nurturing FAIL.  Or whatever.  I guess the point to remember is that I strive to be a good person and, like that old Muppets song goes: Everyone makes mistakes oh yes they do. Your sister and your brother and your Dad and Mother too.  Big People. Small People. Matter of fact all people. Everyone makes mistakes so why can't you.  But this failure is important to me and I'll tell you why:  Because I've been recently discussing language and being nice to the humans you love and how important it is not to be mean.  So when it happens to me - when I'm mean or cruel -  I'm humbled and saddened.

But I will say this:  It started with a near car-accident caused by noise and yammering from my 5 year old.  No, I will clarify further:  it was the result of total and absolute fear after my second near-miss in the car caused by yammering and fighting and noise and Ohmygodwouldyougetthatoutofthebaby'smouthrightnowbeforeshediesplease?

I know.  Excuses, excuses.  And now you think I'm going to say something like "And so I stopped the car and beat everyone."  But I didn't.  I just beat them up with my words and that's the FAIL.  But it's also kind of funny, the amalgam of idiocy at play and so I feel like I really need to share it.

So you know there was the stress from the near-car-accident.  You should also know that one thing I've said sometimes as a parent is I would like to hit that toy with a hammer.  Often I don't say it out of malice, it's just a thing I say when faced with a particularly irritating or annoying toy.  Or sometimes if, say, I've stepped on my fourth Lego of the day.  I'll scream One day, if you cannot respect and take care of your things, I will hit *insert thing here* with a hammer!


And on particularly bad days, you should know that I sometimes think of that *thing* that my children want more than anything else in the world.  And sometimes when that happens I say If you cannot respect the things that you have, I'm going to go get *insert thing they want most in the world* and hit it with a hammer.  No, it makes no sense.  I get that.  It's a total fail in terms of parenting to threaten the thing they don't even yet own because they can't respect the things that they do own.

But humans are not rational creatures.  In any way, shape, or form.  They're even less rational when they're going into their 3rd hour in the car, headed to their second omgreallyfun thing of the day, with the children who don't seem grateful for the fun, and they've just almost rolled into the street out of the McDonald's parking lot right into another vehicle (because of the potential car accident and omgIalmostspilledmycaramelicedcoffeefromMcDonalds).

Now I should tell you that the thing my 5 year old wants more than anything else in the world is a snail.

That's right.

I did it.

I nearly hit another car.  Then I came mommy-unglued and super ugly.  If I'd eaten pea soup in the past 24 hours, I might've spit it.  My head probably turned around once or twice.  And my son laughed because let's admit it - when mommies go all sputtering nonsense, it's funny.

And so I said:
I'm going to buy a snail and smash it with a hammer.


I'd like to say it's the weirdest thing I've ever said as a parent, but I'll be honest, it's one among dozens of regrettable phrases like The only things we flush down the toilet are pee and poop and When you're not sure whether it's poop or chocolate, you wash it off, you don't eat it.  It was irrational and stupid, triggered by being scared and being mad and being reminded that my children often know I'm more bark than bite.  They've always known it.  And it makes me feel powerless when I'm seat-belted into a car and unable, really, to do any sort of discipline whatsoever.

And I apologized.  And when the boy got his snail, the very first thing I said was I think he's cute.  I promise I will not hit him with a hammer.

Okay, really, I forgive myself.  But it's a good reminder that words can hurt.  Even when they're put together in bizarre and irrational phrases.  And the best lesson is the apology that followed and the hope that I can calm down and not do it again, right?