Wicked Witch

I’m the wicked witch.

Pick up the balls please.

Pick up the balls.

Tornado E, I told you pick up the balls.

Pick up the balls right NOW.

Good Lord, child, pick up the balls!

Ok, how about you pick up the balls or go to time out.

My voice cracks.  It goes up a few octaves.  The tone is like nails on a chalk board.  It reflects my desire to be somewhere else, any where else like getting a root canal or watching my mom try on a dozen dresses as I sit in the boyfriend’s set dreaming about the ice cream shake I deserve but won’t get.  Basically I sound like a nag.  I hate it.

Pick up the trains, please.

Pick up the trains.

Tornado E, pick up the trains.

I told you to PICK UP the trains.

Keep picking up the trains.

If I come back in here and the trains aren’t picked up, you’re going to time out.

I sound like my mom, a broken record.  I sound harsh, unforgiving.  I sound angry, hateful, bitter.

Obviously I’m not doing this right.

Tornado E, get your shoes on; we’re going to Grandma and Papi’s.

I start out nice, respectful, often polite.

Get your shoes on.

Then it comes out like a command.  I move away doing something else, dealing with Tornado S, cleaning, brushing my teeth.

Tornado E, where are your shoes?  Get THEM.

Then I start to get angry.

Tornado E!  Get your shoes on.

Then I bark.

Get your shoes on now or you’re going into time out.

Then I threaten.  Usually he does what he’s told to at this final moment; sometimes he does not.

But I find myself muttering a phrase I heard in my past.

How many times do I have to tell you to do something?

Then I know I’m channeling my mother.

That frightens me.  She had horrible PMS when I was growing up.  You know the projectile-vomiting-fire-breathing-head-turning-things-flying-bed-levitating-dear-god-where’s-the-holy-water kind.  She had an excuse.  I do not.  Or maybe three children just constantly pressed her buttons (and God knows what my dad did, i.e. last post) that it would send her on a psychotic tail spin once a month.

Because I see myself heading that way.

Maybe I need to throw him into time out the first time he doesn’t jump to do what he’s told.  Maybe I’m too soft.  Maybe I should have stronger consequences.  Maybe I should just send him to a military school.  Maybe I am my mother.

All I know is I want to be the peaceful, patient, kind, loving mother all the time.  I don’t want to be the snarling, screaming, tired, frustrated mother that is starting to pop at several times a day.  I hate her.  This is just one child pressing my buttons.  I’ve got Tornado S pressing the terrible twos, and I look at him, thinking didn’t Tornado E put away his juice cup at that age, I didn’t let Tornado E get away with hitting at this age, shouldn’t he have learned by now to throw his temper tantrums in his room.

This job, this household, heck, their childhoods would be infinitely more pleasant if they would just do it on THE FIRST TIME.

Really, is that so hard to ask?

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13 Responses to “Wicked Witch”

  1. insider53 Says:

    We all become our mothers eventually no matter how hard we try not to. One day you say something to your child and you turn around to look behind you because you are sure you heard your mother’s voice, you know you did, and yet she isn’t there so with a horrified realization you know it is you and hell has frozen over at last.

  2. Kay Says:

    You’re NOT your mother. You may sound like her at times (I cringe when I hear any resemblance myself), but you’re not.

    There is no perfect mother – the one that you described, so calm, loving, gentle, peaceful? She doesn’t exist. The ones that pretend to be are living in a fantasy world.

    They’re boys, and dammit, one of their favorite things to do is push buttons… especially yours.

    Maybe a different approach would work better… or maybe it wouldn’t.

    I always started out trying… and wondered why my son couldn’t see that I WAS TRYING SO DAMN HARD TO BE NICE AND NOT YELL, COULDN’T HE JUST LISTEN SO I DIDN’T HAVE TO TURN INTO A MONSTER??? I never figured it out, he just grew out of it.

    I’ll be the first to admit, though, there were days that I just couldn’t hack it, and he spent the majority of the day in his room… for his safety and my sanity. He survived… and so will yours 🙂

  3. Brooke Says:

    I think it’s a male thing! My husband still can’t hear my voice until at least the third time I say something.

  4. TheKitchenWitch Says:

    Guess what I’ve started doing? I actually catch myself GROWLING and muttering curses under my breath. I have turned into Clint Eastwood in Grand Torino.

    If, at 5 o’clock, the children are still breathing and have been sufficiently fed and watered, you deserve to call yourself a good mum. And pour a nice glass of wine.

  5. theycallmejane Says:

    Thank goodness there is someone else out there that sounds like me and is brave enough to publish it for the world to see. A friend of mine once told me she wishes she had my “Barney voice.” (Cringe!) But what you just described? That’s me without an audience. When you figure out how to get them to listen the first time please say you’ll share your secret!

  6. ck Says:

    My daughter plays that game too. Upon the second request, however, when I can tell that she’s straight-up ignoring me, I take something away. No warning. No raised voice. It’s mine. She doesn’t like that one bit. But if she throws a fit I send her right to her room. Some days are better than others, but at least on the bad days I score plenty of time without her while she’s upstairs screaming her head off.

  7. Zeemaid Says:

    I can really relate. I too often don’t like the mother I feel like I’m becoming… nasty tail spin, pyscho mom… been there. Done the stupidest of things. I actually was so mad I was literally spitting as I was talking to them… sigh. Thank God, they’ll mostly remember the good stuff..

    AS for being too soft. It could be worse.. my MIL was telling me that in her day and age you just weren’t rude or talked back but then again if they were rude, they got smacked in the face. In. The. Face. I am so glad we are “too soft” nowadays.

  8. Gibby Says:

    I heard Poonch yelling at Chuckles the other day and couldn’t figure out why she sounded so familiar…oops.

    We all do it. And it is inevitable…we all turn into our moms. I feel sorry for my kids if they end up turning into me, LOL!

  9. joz1234 Says:

    My mother has often told me that I’m so much more patient that she ever was. I would have had a spanking, and so I did what I was told.

    I was a submissive child…spanking worked wonders.
    I have a defiant child…spanking doesn’t work.
    Time outs work much better.

    I need to work on not asking, getting louder and finally demanding too…I fall into that evil cycle as well–and then I get frustrated and need a timeout myself.

  10. ymK Says:

    Oh I can’t tell you how good it feels to know I am not the only one. I was living under a blanket of guilt, and heavy one.
    We all lose it sometimes because these kids are all the same, they love pushing our buttons.
    I would give anything for them to listen the first time I ask. Kids and Hubby, all of them.

  11. faemom Says:

    insider~ When we finally have a mommy summer camp, you get to tell the ghost stories while we roat marshmellows.
    Kay~ That was wonderful. Thank you.
    Brooke~ You might be right. I have the same problem with The Husband.
    TKW~ Excellent adivce!
    jane~ If I find that allusive secret, I’m shouting it for the world of moms to hear.
    ck~ I’m going to try that.
    Zeemaid~ I haven’t gotten spitting mad . . . YET. I’m sure it’s coming. Weren’t those the days of belts and switches? Yuck.
    Gibby~ Now there is some silver lining. But will my boys turn into me or The Husband?
    joz~ Rught, we need time outs too. Maybe then we can think of something better than the cycle of crazy.
    ymK~ Feel free to toss the blanket of guilty. Maybe it’ll land on the Hubby and at least he’ll learn to do something when you first ask.

  12. Dr. Syn Says:

    Brooke Says: “I think it’s a male thing! My husband still can’t hear my voice until at least the third time I say something.”

    Funny … my wife doesn’t seem to listen until I’ve asked 100 times for her to do something.

    Boiling it down to a “male thing” is offensive and stereotypical.

  13. faemom Says:

    Yes, it is. Unfortunately many guys do block out their wives or mothers. Though as you pointed out, there are women who do the same to their husbands and fathers. Guess it’s too much to hope that it’s a medical problem?

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