I think I had what you’d call a melt down yesterday. A difference in opinion with Vader — I think he should listen to his parents, whereas he thinks he’s above the rules — brought about a horrible fight that was, in the words of my husband, “Unnecessary.” It was, that’s true. I should be able to talk with my kids and they should be able to respond in kind, but that isn’t the way it works in this house. When I ask for help, or for something to get done, most often I’m disregarded — until I yell. Then one of two things happens: either stuff gets done, or kids yell back — and it all goes downhill from there.
I really hate the yelling and I know God doesn’t like it, either, and my resolve to work on it — and decrease the hollering — appears to have ‘stirred the pot’. It seems I’m yelling and agitated more than ever. Could be the pain I’m in, could be the drugs, but mostly I think it’s my heart. Because I’m tired. The daily struggles with the kids are so old and I don’t want to do it anymore. I’ve never wanted to be a nag and I detest getting after them about cleaning their rooms, doing their chores, turning in their homework, studying…and the list goes on. I know already that these are common struggles for every parent, but I feel like I’m the only parent who deals with angry, sullen teenage boys whose first reaction when I have to nag or yell about broken house rules is to scream about how I hate them, or they hate me, or how I ruined their lives because I was dumb enough to marry their father. I don’t understand how any of that pertains to not taking out the garbage, or not sweeping the floor for two weeks, or not turning in the history assignments, and frankly, I’m too worn to care anymore.
Now I’m looking at myself wondering what kind of mother just doesn’t care anymore? It isn’t that I don’t love my kids, I just don’t care about all the stupid excuses and inane arguments. I don’t give a fig why my sixteen-year-old thinks that the house rules apply to everyone but him, and I don’t care to keep repeating the same rules he flouts every day.
I know there has to be something wrong with me for not finding the patience to hold my tongue, and to keep on keeping on. I’m not sure where to find that patience — God and I have had many conversations about it — but it’s still a huge problem for me. Somewhere in the last 24 hours I lost my ‘momming ability’ or it broke, I don’t know. But my heart feels hard towards my teens and broken for what I don’t know how to repair…