____________ April 29, 2016 ___________

The Bad Mom Day

Well, as much fun as we’ve been having, I suppose it was inevitable that things would swing around in the other direction, eventually.  Life’s ups and downs and all that.  It… was not a good day, yesterday.  And I’m sorry, but as a result, I just don’t have it in me to be sunshine and rainbows.  Just thought I’d set the mood for you, before we even get into the…  oh, man, do we *HAVE* to get into it?

First, it poured rain all day.  That’s not necessarily a bad thing in our opinion, per se.  But being stuck inside kind of drives the kiddos stir-crazy after a while, and our house just isn’t the biggest thing in the world.  We play video games and have school stuff and hauled out ‘Sorry!’ and other stuff – they were messing around with Snap Circuits for a good long time…

And then someone tells me Isaac’s dunking his head in a sink full of water.  ((!!))  That’s just weird… get the heck out of the water, y’goof.  😛  ((Isaac.  It’s a.l.w.a.y.s Isaac.))  And then he comes over to show me something, and his hair looks weird.  Like when a kid smiles who’s lost both his front teeth – it looks like Isaac has taken a three inch swath of hair right over his forehead and chopped it short.  But it’s wet, and it hasn’t been combed and is all over the place, so… I don’t know, for sure.  I said, “Did you cut your hair?”  He was affronted.  “No!”  I shook my head.  “It looks like you cut your hair.”  He was surprised.  “I didn’t cut my hair, Mom.”

So then we’re at the lunch table, and his hair is still SOAKING wet.  It looks like he’s been thru a hurricane, it’s just everywhere.  I said, “Something looks wrong – what did you do?”  And he gets very grave and says, “I did NOT cut my hair, Mom.  I’m telling you the truth.”  And I let it go, but… what the heck is going on with him???

Fifteen minutes after lunch, Ethan shows up, and holds out his hands.  They’re full of hair.  ISAAC hair.

Now I get that kids do stupid stuff like this.  I do.  I chopped my own bangs off when I was something like six.  Okay, he’s a little old for it, but he’s ((((Isaac)))). And if he’d said, “I was stupid – I cut my hair.  It looks weird, and I know I’m going to get in trouble, but will you help me fix it?”… he would’ve gotten in trouble, but I would’ve rolled my eyes and helped even the mess out.  BUT HE LIED TO ME.  Multiple times.  He looked me in the EYE and lied to me.  Repeatedly.

There is nothing, NOTHING in this world I hate more than lies.  It’s kind of a thing with me – and everyone knows it.  I don’t tolerate lies.  And I got mad.  No, I got LIVID.  I was seriously, SERIOUSLY pissed off.  I grabbed him by the ponytail, dragged him thru the house (snatching up the shears as we went thru), and I hacked his hair OFF.  I was really spitting mad, and going off, the whole time.  ‘You wanna cut your hair and LIE to me about it?  Let the punishment fit the crime.  I’ll help you cut your hair, you little liar!’  (<< I’m NOT a nice person when I’m pissed off.  I morph into my mom, and I was the spitting image of her.  I HATE THAT.  Almost as much as lying.)  And I hacked the SHIT out of his hair.  (And of course he’s sobbing, “No!  No!  Please!!!”  which is just pissing me off more, because now I’m the bad guy. I AM NOT THE BAD GUY, HERE!!!!  I didn’t lie, I didn’t cover it up, I didn’t do *anything* wrong.  It was HIS choice, HIS stupidity, HIS lie.  But now I’m not only the bad guy, but I’m my MOTHER.

And of course then he looked like total shit after my crazed blur of flying shears, so I had to sit him down in the kitchen with the clippers and do something with the huge hack-mess that was front AND back of his head.  He was sobbing the entire time, and by now my initial white-hot flare of anger was fading, and I was starting to feel like Horrible Mom, and he was just guilting the shit out of me.  Like he had been wronged, like I was an ogre, like it was unfair.  I’ll tell you what’s unfair – THAT whole thing he was doing was unfair.  What he was putting ME thru was unfair.  HE brought this whole fiasco about.

And of course, when I’m finished he runs and hides in his bed, crying and hissing at his brothers to ‘just leave him alone‘, and ‘just shut UP‘… which isn’t fair, either.  Shame.  Guilt.  Anger.  SO much anger.  But I’m not going to abide a liar.  I won’t do it.  It was wrong, what he did.  And he needed to be punished for it.

So yeah.  I cut his hair off.  All I could think after when I was tidying the mess was, ‘Well, Brian’ll be happy about this.’  He hates the boys’ long hair, anyhow.  But the hope was that he’d be smart and NOT make a mockery of the thing.  And wouldn’t it be nice if he helped me by talking to Isaac, later?  Although I knew better than to expect that – Brian isn’t into the Dad thing.   I’m really the parent.  So after I was done crying (Dont. Say. A Word.), I went in there, pulled down the blanket partitions he’d hung to shut himself away in his lower bunk, and talked to him.  It didn’t go like I wanted it to – I wanted to end up hugging him.  Instead I ended up mad because he wasn’t sorry.  He still hasn’t apologized for lying.  He was angry, he was vindictive… he was NOT learning.  That one just might never learn.  I don’t know.

Brian gets home, sees Isaac and says, “What happened to your hair?”  And Isaac says [wait for it], “I cut my hair, and made a mess, so mom had to fix it.”  !!!!!   Um… that’s NOT what happened!  And he omitted the truth, again!  So I said, “Um, NO… he cut his hair and LIED MULTIPLE TIMES TO ME ABOUT IT, and so I hacked it off.”  Hoping that Brian would get that Isaac had just lied to HIM.  But nope.  Didn’t even register it.  He didn’t say a word, no punishment for lying to HIM… nada.  Should’ve seen that one coming.  Did I mention I’m the only parent, around here?  And it’s not a picture of solidarity?

So then Brian goes out to fire up the machine in the barn (……STEEEEEL……), and Owen comes tearing thru the house at full throttle with a Little People bus in his hands.  He knows not to run in the house.  We have this saying:  “You run, you fall.  You fall, you get hurt.”  Everyone knows this.  But you know what happens next.  He trips, he goes down, and the Little People bus is shoved right up his nose.  SCREAMING.  Sheer, agonized screaming echoes thru the house.  I grab him up, hold him close, tip him back (he’s holding his face)… it’s going to be bad.  And yup.  He’s got a pretty serious nose bleed.  He’s snorting and coughing and snotting all over me – I’m covered in blood.  Lydia’s getting me TP to staunch the flow, and I’m checking to be sure his nose isn’t broken or out of joint… he looks okay, but he has totally destroyed both the outside AND the inside of his nose.  It’s red, swollen, scratched all the way down and around… Homigosh.  HomiGOSH…!!!!

Today is field trip day.  I have a shorn kid, a kid who looks like he’s gone seven rounds with an angry bull, and a husband I’m not terribly pleased with in tow.  It’s 8:16am, today, and the man is already out in the barn (……STEEEEEEL…..).  I slept for crap.  I need a shower – there’s still blood caught around and under my nails.

It’s just… I… y’know, I think I’d better go.  I’m running desperately low, today.  And it’s going to be a busy one, and I’m already weary beyond words.  Let’s hope everything goes smoothly and that we can make it thru Lansing and Mimouna (sweet feast marking the return of chametz/leavened foods to our house) without any other major problems.  Making it to Shabbat without further incident would be perfect.

Advertisements
Leave a comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s