Mean.

"GET UP!" I screamed at her.

We were in the bathroom of a big (and kind of nasty) toy store.  I was hugely pregnant and had difficulty lugging her around in my condition. And she was laying and rolling on the floor (omg.)  She was hugely two and a quarter at the time. She was whining and screaming and tantruming and wouldn't pee (just because) and then she flung herself onto the floor to roll around with the pubic hairs and the mold spores and who knows what else and I lost it.

Not even the caps lock and the exclamation point can accurately convey the scary tone I took. It was savage.

It was so harsh and awful sounding that I kind of floated up and outside my own body. I astrally projected myself into the hallway and into the body of a potential stander-by and imagined what it would have sounded like from the other side of the door.  What a person coming into the restroom would have thought about me, about my relationship with my daughter.

***

I was 5 or 6 years old and I can't remember why my mother was yelling at me but she was so close to my face that she filled up my entire view of the world. Her expression was distorted with anger and rage.  It was a regular occurrence for her to lose her shit with anger.  She was in her mid-twenties, with a pre-schooler and a baby and a past that made her broken in some ways.

Although I don't remember why she was screaming at me, I remember everything else as if it happened yesterday.  I was sitting at the kitchen table (in my dad's seat,) waiting for the yelling to be done.  (That's how it usually ended.  The yelling just stopped and I would be raw and shaky for a while and then we would just keep on going like nothing happened.)  Her screaming was so loud and so close to my face. Her voice was aggressive, so severe and anxiety provoking that my brain conjured the only defense it could.

I smiled. (The budding Nervous-slash-Inappropriate Laugh? PERHAPS.)

This enraged her and she screamed, 'Don't you look at me like I'm crazy!'

***

After I lose my shit with my kid, I feel mean and small. I feel guilt and remorse.  I apologize and try to explain it as best I can.  It's a hard thing to understand.  For both of us.

When she was a little smaller, she confused her pronouns.  After an episode of yelling and apologizing, her level of world-rock would show itself in her language, in a way that would break my heart:

'I'm sorry I yelled at you, Mommy.  I'm sorry I yelled at you.'  

Now that she's older, with a better command of the language, she explores more.  Looking for the cause, the igniting incident.  After we've gone over what happened, she'll ask:

'What did I say to you, Mommy?' 'Why didn't I listen to you?' or, 'Why did I run away?'

She asks me these things like the answers are in my head.  It's hard for me to pin-point the reason that I whipped out the napalm for a run-of-the-mill infraction this time, when most other times it's just a stern-voice-time-out situation.  I try to separate what she did from my disproportionate response.  It isn't fair, in my mind, to make her responsible for my feelings in general, especially a temper tantrum.

I do my best (and am successful, mostly) to let go of any guilt I feel and try to move forward with a renewed sense of purpose, as relates to increasing my frustration tolerance.

***

When my mother was a little younger than I am now, she went into therapy.  She learned a lot about herself and her past.  She did some healing and putting-back-together.  She gained insight into the workings of her own mind and she unloaded years of festering guilt and shame.

And then, she apologized for emotionally abusing me.

It was a watershed moment in my life.  I still had a lot of my own shit to work through in therapy, to be sure, but it's hard to overestimate the effect of having your parent change.  And own up to her past fucked up behavior.

***

I used to frequently discuss my ambivalence about having children with my therapist.  As odd or as natural as it may sound to you (depending, I suppose, on what kind of childhood you had) a portion of my ambivalence was about my fear of potentially hurting my own kids.  Not physically, really, but emotionally.  I was afraid that I would replicate my upbringing, despite my wishes and efforts to do the contrary.

My therapist told me this: 'If you do ten good things for every one bad thing, you're doing great. Hell, if you do FIVE good things, you'll be fine.'  This advice has stuck with me and I know it to be true in my case.  Even in my own upbringing, the good greatly outweighed the bad.  As unsettling as the screaming was, I always knew that my mother loved me with the same intensity that made her anger burn so bright.

The Little Sister put it this way, (after which we both howled with laughter):

'Well, we took a reaming, like, every day and we turned out all right.'

Which, if you can appreciate some dark humor, is hilarious.

And very, very true.

Comments

[CuriousParty]

Yes. Yes, yes, yes to all of it. And thank you. My two-almost-three year old was trembling the other day while my newborn cried and I screamed and God I felt like a total failure. But I can't be. I have to do better. Thanks for letting me know I'm not alone.

[Emilie]

OMG, you just answered all the questions I had about my own ambivalence about having children. I feel so relieved. Even if we do end up doing terrible things like our own parents, we should forgive them and us. Of course this doesn't apply in extreme situations, but often people make mistakes and are really good parents.

[Fairly Odd Mother]

Oh, I hear you on this, I do. I yell and I HATE it. I've actually started paying the kids a quarter everytime I yell in an effort to make me stop and think about what I'm doing.

My mom was a yeller, but the worst thing she did was "wait until your dad gets home". I knew then that I'd get more than a yelling. Those hours of waiting were torture. I will never ever do that to my kids, and for that, I say "yeah for small victories". We all do our best and hopefully get better as we go along.

[Kelly]

Both Dave and I have tempers. We try quite hard to keep them contained, and to vent in a way that isn't crazy scary. But sometimes I suck at it, still. Things were harder when the girls were smaller (read: 3 years old, evil!). I still remember some times that make me want to crawl inside my skin and shrivel up into something dry and blow away, so great is the shame.

But they're downstairs laughing now. We're doing okay. We fuck up sometimes, but mostly we're good and well and do things right.

(And I love what toyfoto said. So true.)

[parkingathome]

Wow I relate so hard. That fear of being a repeat of your parents is so strong. I didn't have it with kids as much as I had it with getting married. My parents divorced when I was 4, my dad's remarried twice, and I never had a good example of a relationship. I figured I would mess it up just as they did. It was really hard to take the plunge, and then when I did have kids it was really hard to not be a total dishrag like my mom was. Failed at that one, and messed myself up pretty harshly. Ah well, live and learn the best we can.

[anne nahm]

So many hugs. Parenting is such trial by fire, both doing it and receiving it.

[Brandi]

I'm a yeller too. I think my mom was a partial yeller so maybe some of it comes from that. But I think circumstances in my life-mostly because of my own bad choices-have made me angry beyond belief & it is easier to take it out on my kids that deal with it.

But I got a new book "She's Gonna Blow!" (cause I'm a big dork & can't figure out how to underline) & speed read through it because OMG it is so me. And it made me think. And I have resolved to not be such a yeller. I need to heal the relationships with my kiddos before it is too late. I have some apologizing to do.

It is funny that you wrote this since this has been my struggle lately. It's good to know that we are not alone.

[The Domestic Goddess]

I often stop myself mid-scream because when I look at the expression on my son's face I suddenly am catapulted back into his shoes, listening to my own mother scream at me. She was bipolar and had a history of sexual abuse. While she was a loving mother, she had manic rage episodes. Then she'd crash and be "sick" or in bed for a week or more. We learned very young how to run out household.

I don't want my son growing up that way. It is difficult for me to control my temper, especially when I've been without sleep for days on end from the younger one. But I keep reminding myself that I want my kids to remember a happy, smiling momma. I want them to remember the cuddles and kisses and book-reading. I don't want them to remember mommy sobbing in the kitchen or despondent on the couch. So I got myself some help. And I'm not perfect, nowhere near it, but at least it is better. I got my kids help, too, because I realized that they had their own issues to deal with. It's tough but we make it.

[mythoughtsonthat]

We often parent the same way we were parented, even when we swear we will never do what our parents did to us. But they are our role models and we were taught well. I always apologize- a huge difference from what my mother did. I'm not sure she even realizes what she did to us. Peace to you as you find your way in this parenting gig.

[Sahara]

Oh this parenting thing. It feels so amazing and exhilarating sometimes, and just so terrible at others. I'm sure your kids will grow up knowing how much you love them. Thanks for posting.

[Kader]

That was beautiful. I am the child of two parents with tempers. My mom's was more predictable and frequent; my dad's was unpredictable and infrequent. I don't know which one is harder on a kid, but I don't really look forward to finding out which I am.
Thank you so much for sharing this. I'll be bookmarking it for those days where I feel like an out-of-control "mean mom."

[Amlanders]

Thank you for writing this and for, as someone put it, pressing "publish". It is reassuring to know that I/we are not alone, and that I am not the only one who struggles like this. As we embark upon yet another snow day, thank you. I think I will be a better mother tomorrow.

[Atomic Mom]

I am very happy to have read this today. I'm on the verge of having my second child, and it's a good feeling to know that we ALL fuck up sometimes. None of us want to be our parents.

The good thing is that we realize this and work to change it. It would be scary if we didn't.

I am going to remember the 10 or 5 to 1 thing in the future. I will def. make sure there is more good than bad.

[Jessica (@It's my life...)]

Worse than yelling is never admitting that you yelled, never saying sorry, never saying "mommies make mistakes."
You yell, then you acknowledge that you yelled and you apologize. That's a massive difference from what your mother used to do. What you're doing is teaching your children that grown-ups are human, that we get it wrong sometimes, that we lose our tempers, and that it's OK and it doesn't mean that we don't love them any less. It all hinges on the fact that we're conscious of what we're doing, know it's not idea, and apologize.

Some days I yell so hard that it hurts my throat. That's the day the apology hurts the most.

[donna]

Ugh, this post really got me. I yell too. I don't say mean things but I swear that me raising my voice is the ONLY thing that will get her attention. It drives me nuts and makes me feel like shit and I worry that all she'll remember is me yelling at her.

[CT Mom]

My mom was a screamer. I told myself that I wouldn't yell. And I've kept that promise about 80% of the time. The other 19% I raise my voice, and then that last 1%, I totally lose it. I've seen my older daughter visibly flinch at my words. And my younger daughter will look completely broken.

That's when I remember my promise. And I start again.

Great post.

[jodifur]

We have this new rule in my house, Mommy is going to yell less and Michael is going to listen more.

I think that there is so much to be said for just being conscious of our behavior. Just acknowledging it does so much.

I've always loved you and admired you and I thought you were the bomb, but right now, I think you are simply amazing.

[Manic Mommy]

Wow. I'm blown away. I hate when I see my father's temper in me. His went beyond the emotional. Mine, certainly does not. But it is not a good reflection in the mirror.

Thank you for writing this.

[Lori]

Oh Lord I am overwhelmed with emotion. Love to you.

[jaelithe]

I have had my own explosions of unreasonable temper, and they aren't pretty. I am unfortunately the sort of person who seems really quiet and reasonable most of the time but is capable of storing up anger until it boils over in a a screaming rage volcano.

I have found I have gotten better about this as my son has gotten older. I don't think it's just that he has gotten better behaved (and easier to reason with) with age - it's also that I've had more practice not taking his misbehavior personally, and keeping my cool.

Nothing can really teach you how to parent except for parenting itself. Which is scary to think about. But, as you said, all we can do is try our best to make the good outweigh the bad.

[Julie @ The Mom Slant]

Hell, my parents never apologized for anything. They probably never will. So I always apologize, and I mean it with all my heart. It doesn't erase the fact that I lost my shit, but it's a far sight better than pretending it never happened.

Ten to one, five to one - those ratios make me feel good about what I'm doing right. Thanks for that.

[Swistle]

Neither of my parents were yellers or temper-losers, and I am. It makes me feel like some sort of crazy monster weirdo. It's an utterly unfamiliar way to be, from my family experience.

[She Likes Purple]

Thank you for writing this. My dad's temper is inside me and it scares the hell out of me.

[areyoukiddingme?]

After a couple of those episodes, I've learned they have no effect whatsoever on my daughter. She ignores me under all circumstances if she has an agenda. She requires physical removal from a situation, and then some alone time to process her anger at being deflected from what she wants to do. Life's going to get difficult when I can't pick her up and carry her off, but I hope that she stops testing her boundaries some before then.

My mom was a screamer, and unpredictable, and we feared her anger. I'm both glad and scared that my daughter has no fear of me. Glad for obvious reasons; scared because it's more difficult to protect someone who has no fear and a strong will.

[Zahra]

This really hits a nerve for me. I grew up with an emotionally and physically abusive mother, so I should know better. But I do also catch myself reacting to things my daughter does sometimes in a way that comes from anger -- a way that is reminiscent of my mother's behavior towards my sisters and myself. I hate it. I don't want my daughter to be afraid of me. I feel a little less alone knowing that others feel the same way. Thank you for such a well-written and thoughtful post.

[Forgotten]

Oh holy shit. I needed to see this. Thank you. I have been that evil two headed monster here lately and I know part of it is stress related to dealing with my adult stuff. I needed a reminder to just step back and calm myself the hell down.

I was listening to the radio and the weather came on and it's more snow coming (Blizzard Warning even) and I thought, "Oh great. Now I'll never get out." After reading that I'm rethinking it as an opportunity to spend some time in the floor playing with my babies.

Why do we let life beat us up so much that we forget to have some fun once in a while and just let the little stuff go?

[Jill]

This post really struck a chord with me. I always wanted to have kids, but on the days where my emotions get the better of me or my inner demons take the reins, I wonder if I'm doing my boys a disservice. If someone else could/would do a better job of raising them to their potential without effing them up. It's just so hard, you know?

[Andrea (@shutterbitch)]

I never expected pre-parenthood that I'd see the day where my kids' tear stained faces and hiccuping hysteria would not affect me into whisking them up into my arms immediately every single time. That I could CAUSE such reactions in them to my own temper tantrums (after all, that's what they are, just the adult kind) make me feel like the wickedest witch in the world. To do better, BE better, is something I aspire to.

Thank you for publishing this. Thank you.

[Amelia Sprout]

It was my dad mostly, and he's been to therapy recently, and he's apologized, but it doesn't seem to stop me from losing it either.
It is damn hard. I didn't go through what my dad did (PTSD) but here I am, yelling when I shouldn't be. Honestly, that makes me feel worse. Like I have no good reason.
It is true though, the good outweighs the bad. It has to be true, or the whole world would be way more messed up than it already is.

[rimarama]

Thank you for writing this. I'm glad you hit "publish."

[toyfoto]

I live this life, almost exactly. I was afraid to be my mother. But when I got to the phase of losing the plot like my mom did ... screaming and ranting with unbelievable rage over essentially small things ... I noticed that my level of frustration, life worries, sleep deprivation, fear ... all played a role.

I no longer think she was abusive. I think she had momentary lapses of coping.

[Alias Mother]

I haven't checked in here for a while because of post-second child busyness. Today I did. Today I also screamed hysterically at my two-and-a-quarter year old (during failed potty training! THAT'LL HELP!) and then spent fifteen minutes apologizing to her hysterical, tear-streaked face. And then I cried because I realized that my greatest parenting fear is true and that I am doomed to be just like my father.

Or maybe not.

Thank you.

[Motherhood Uncensored]

It's the same ambivalence I've always had. And I tell myself the same thing over and over.

All you need is Quinlan telling you that you're being grumpy. Though it doesn't take away the shame that I did it in the first place.

[TheOneTrueSue]

Thanks for saying this out loud. My dad was the same way - constantly losing his crackers over the slightest infraction. It was extremely confusing and when I find myself yelling it always takes me right back there. But I refuse to be him. I refuse to let his parenting define my parenting.

And I think - I think most parents lose it at one point or another. That doesn't mean we're THEM. And that's the trick, isn't it? Making sure we don't allow ourselves to slide from an occasional freak-out that we feel awful about, into this weird place where we say to ourselves "Yes, I'm accepting that I'm a horrible parent who allows herself to scream at and terrify her kid on a daily basis."

Loved this post.

[Chibi Jeebs]

I can't imagine how hard it was to hit "publish" because this was hard for me to read. So much of it hits home (well, up to and including the ambivalence about having children: haven't been able to cross THAT hurdle).

I do have to say, though, that it's amazing that TLNG feels safe enough to ask for clarification/explanation: I *still* can't (don't? won't?) do that.

Much love.