“I can scream as loud as my daughter” – Bad Mom Confession

“I can scream as loud as my daughter” – Bad Mom Confession

Aug 22

This week, a mom confesses to out-tantrumming her children.
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Constance writes,

My 6 year old Eugenia throws fits.  Massive, house/neighborhood-busting fits.  My neighbors are so used to it that they ask the next day (or the same night, if I’m sitting on the steps with a beer) what happened this time.

This last time my cop husband had been working for three days and I finally snapped.

It started with the fact that my eldest is away for a week, so the younger two decided that they will not cannot sleep alone.  So I haul their mattresses into the playroom, set up their comfy things, their nightlight, their “audio” and tuck them in.  Three hours later they are still going.  The joy of being together in the beginning had turned into the furious yells of two overtired children.  So, for the millionth time, I stomp into their room.

Eugenia whines: “Edson shook me and woke me up!”  (Right after I heard a war whoop and a ground pound from her.)  So I ask, “Why did you wake her up?”  Edson just shook his head.  She said, “Well he was whispering to me and I can’t sleep.”  So I nicely asked her why she felt like she had to lie to me.

And it began.

Eugenia cried and flung her arms around and when I took her hand to guide her back to mattress she threw herself down yelling, “Ow, ow, ow, you hurt me!!”  To which Edson yells, “She did not, you’re faking again!” In response my little demon rushed at him and pushed him down.  He cried, saying he just wanted to go to sleep, so I gave in and put him in my bed.

And what is Eugenia doing during this?  Lying in the hallway, yelling at the top of her lungs that no one loves her and no one wants to be with her.  I turn around, pick her up and plop her on her bed – which somehow provokes more screams of, “Oh owie!  My head!  You hurt my head!”  Then the legs start flailing and somehow she gets over to me and kicks me.  And I saw red.  I started shaking. I finally screamed-as loud as her: “Goddammit, just SHUT the F**K UP!”

I had never sworn at anyone in my house.  Definitely not loud enough for the strangers at the top of the street to talk about tomorrow.

I walked away (like I have done so many times.  Mommies need time outs.)  Eugenia followed me but I just couldn’t hear her anymore.  I was aghast at the thought that even though she flips out regularly, I had never lost it.  She will be scarred.  She will honestly think I don’t love her.

The next day I kept thinking the Department of Children’s Services would pull up.  My girl is not a delicate thing.  She is covered in bruises from the dog, the brothers, the tantrums, etc.  But who would believe the screaming mom when Eugenia’s big brown eyes are piercing your heart??

Dear Constance,

if this is what’s in store for me, I might be better off selling C now. I’m sure the prison time for selling a kid is shorter than for murdering him.

Or her.

Which brings us back to your confession. And frankly, if all you did was yell once at your kid (who was being a nightmare, for lack of a better word,) you have nothing to be ashamed of. If I had to deal with that kind of harassment from a 6 year old, I would have probably punched a hole into a wall.

At the very least.

If your neighbours are used to the screaming (and I mean your daughter’s) then they will certainly not call the cops – they will most likely do a silent fist pump because you stood up to her once. I am obviously not advocating that you yell obscenities at your girl when she flips, but maybe a firmer stance might help? Your call, sister, your call.

Now crack two beers open and make room for me on that front step!

You are forgiven,

M

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Forgiveness guaranteed.
Small print:
Confessions may be edited for length (and grammar and spelling, because I’m a stickler.) All real names will be changed for Victorian-era pseudonyms, to make everyone sound classier.
While I do not necessarily encourage repeating any of the behaviours confessed, I will not blame anybody who sees them as “tips” rather than no-nos.
This column is called ‘Bad Mom Confessions’ for the sake of brevity and consistency, but I must stress that dads, grandparents and carers of all sorts are most welcome to use the Confession Booth.