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Tuesday, February 14, 2012

the BITCH is back

I was still pregnant with William when I wrote a post called BITC&H . It's probably one of my favourite posts despite it being based on a nasty word. I like it because it's funny (well I think it is, how about you be the judge by clicking the link) but more than that I like it because so many people, particularly mothers, can identify with it.

There are times when I'm, well, to put it bluntly, a bit of a bitch. I'm not alone. It's common for mums of young children to be accused of turning into bitches. We are aware of it and don't like Being Incredibly Tired Cranky and Hormonal but sometimes we just don't know how to stop.

There are days when I wake up tired and cranky and I seem to mess up within minutes. There are days when my best intentions and hardest efforts can't save me. There are days where I think I'm making some headway but I'm exhausted by 3pm let alone by the time hubby gets home so by the time we get the kids to bed I'm a rather loud zombie. There are days that are just bad days. I'm done with beating myself up over it.

Yes some days I'm just a bitch and nothing you can say or do will make me happy. My job as a mum and a wife and a human being is to limit those days and limit the damage they cause. I have two very precious little people who need me. I know this yet this statement is very important:


I have very little control over myself when I'm tired and cranky and hormonal and stressed and overwhelmed and irritable and a little too intense. Yes self-control is a fruit of the Spirit and a 'good Christian' should be able to control their actions, their words and even their thoughts to an extent. Yet I can't always control myself while I'm in the heat of the moment. And although sometimes I do/say things that are definitely not ok, dwelling on it doesn't make it any better.

It's tempting to blame it on the hormones or the sleep depravation. I've had men tell me to stop making excuses and I've had women (including doctors and nurses) tell me it's ALL because of those two things. Whilst I am responsible for my own behaviour, these two things really don't help. I am so tired at times that all four limbs have pins and needles. I'm so tired at times that I am absolutely albeit temporarily convinced that every single word uttered by anybody within earshot is a personal dig at me. I'm so tired at times that I just lie there rolled up in a little ball and sob. Sometimes I get furious when I'm expected to get up when I can't see an urgent reason. Being incredibly tired does that to people. 

Sometimes I get so tired I think "if my husband really loved me he wouldn't let me get this tired." (Can't he keep the children quiet in the morning while I go back to bed while feeding Alexis, feeding himself, showering, dressing himself, getting his things together, doing the dishes and making his lunch? No? Then why couldn't he have at least made his lunch and done the dishes the night before while Alexis was asleep and I was feeding William?) Sometimes I am so busy being miserable that I miss the good things he does. Of course it is great he was building a duplo house with Alexis while holding William on his lap instead of letting the tv babysit. Somedays I get my priorities wrong.

Most days I get up when the first child wakes without grumbling and I'm legitimately happy to see them. Some days I just want more sleep and if William has fed not long ago I think it's within my rights to go back to bed for a bit because I let Corey sleep in yesterday (jealously is pure evil) and this is wrong. It doesn't help it just makes the mornings rushed. Sometimes though I know I need more sleep or I will either fall asleep mid sentence when reading stories leaving William and Alexis unsupervised or snap at someone. When I have enough energy I am a very loving, very competent, very fun, very creative mother. When I'm exhausted I'm not. I'm not superhuman. I have limits. The best thing I can do for my family is to realise this.
Then I need to communicate my sleep needs respectfully and clearly. Corey tries to please me but my needs change. Sometimes I want him to keep the kids quiet while I go back to sleep (it doesn't always work but at least he tries). When I'm really really tired I want him to do things to make my days easier because even if I do get to go back to bed I'm still going to be sluggish and sore and incompetent. When I'm energetic and feeling good is when I want him to stop and play with the kids while I rush around. Men aren't always perceptive of what mood we are in. Men, it's never a good idea to wake us up to ask. When I'm really tired it's incredibly difficult to explain. Maybe we should have two code words, one for "please just keep them quiet because my head is aching. I'll do the housework later" and one for "if you don't do the dishes and sterilize ummies and bottles my whole day is going to be a disaster and by the time you get home I'll be bordering on hysterical".  Really what I want is for him to KNOW what I need, to VALUE what I do, to REALISE I need more sleep and to SHOW me that he cares.

Sometimes its really hard not to get down about never feeling quite well enough or the mountain of housework that never ends or the two little darlings fighting for my attention ALL DAY LONG and often at night too. It certainly isn't easy being tugged at all day and hearing that whiney noise all day long. I'm an introvert by nature and a retired over achiever and sometimes I am completely baffled by my new life as a mum.  

Yes there are good days, brilliant days, yes my family is so incredibly precious to me, yes my children are the most beautiful kind loving adorable cherubs I have ever seen and I thank God for them daily, but sometimes just sometimes I don't really want to get out of bed. Sometimes I get overwhelmed. Sometimes I'm just a bitch.

Sometimes I can fake myself out of being cranky by putting on some music and jumping around or running after Alexis shouting "I'm Batman" or crawling around on my hands and knees going "roar!" Sometimes I chuck a dvd on for Alexis, set William up in his rocker to watch me and tackle the kitchen head on in the hope that regaining control of the housework will improve my mood. Some days I can turn bad mornings into wonderful afternoons. There are days though when I just survive til hubby's home or nap time if I'm lucky enough to get one and that's ok.

I'm not a bitch. I'm not useless. I'm not worthless. I'm not impossible to please. I'm just tired.     


At February 17, 2012 at 2:39 PM , Blogger Rhianna said...

Fairy wishes and butterfly kisses to you lovely, I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes this parenting gig is more demanding than most let on. I love the way you are so open about it all


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