Mommy ramblings

I've made it a solid three days, plus half of this day.
I feel like a recovering addict, assuming the mantra of 'one day at a time'.
I've resolved to not turn into psycho-bitch grump mom every morning in the rush to get Ella to school on time and in the hustle bustle routine of bedtime.

On one hand, the routine of a school schedule has opened up a new rhythmn for this household. Routine is something we've never known much of. We have a regular bedtime now for Els, which means that Bill and I get to catch up on a nightly basis about day to day stuff without the jungle house pygmee bouncing off the walls, demanding constant attention. There is a kind of reliability to the day to day that didn't exist before this year. Homeschooling was kind of off-the-cuff when it came to how we planned everything and with that, Ella seemed to always feel caught off guard when it came to the comings and goings of everything. I think now she feels like she at least knows what to expect.

On the other hand, there is so much less flexibility. If we have a late night for whatever reason, she can't just catch an extra hour of sleep in the morning. Instead, she drags her little behind around for the rest of the week until Saturday comes, when she can indulge in that extra hour or two in bed. It's wake-up-get dressed-pack the lunch-get to school and then get home-do homework-make and eat dinner-clean up- and go to bed. The mornings are rush rush rush and in the evenings, I've found myself barking relentlessly, till I'm annoying my own self, in my effort to get her to round up her hurricane messes and get to sleep at a reasonable hour.

The barking, I've resolved, has got to go. I do not want to be that kind of mom and so, four days ago, I decided I wasn't going to be anymore. I've made some basic rules for her to follow when it comes to being responsible for her own shit (taking her dirty dishes to the sink, cleaning up messes after she's made them, and being mindful about other people's space) and while she's bitching endlessly about how strict I've become, I've also pointed out that, by her following these basic rules, mom won't have to be a super-nag anymore. It seems a fair trade, really.

More often than not, when I find myself in the throws of reeming her out for her thoughtlessness, carelessness, forgetfullness, if I tune in carefully to my own self, I find that, really, it's my own shit that's getting on my nerves and my bitching at Ella is really just a venue for venting... a vehicle for release. How fair is that?

If I'm unhappy about the workload I carry at this house and if I feel like it's being taken for granted, then I need to take the necessary steps to make sure that I remedy it. I need to get creative. She's 9 years old, right? I'm the adult. If I don't want her to behave like an entitled princess, wallowing in her own foodscraps and paper cuttings, then I need to round her up and get her on track. If I don't want to be psycho-bitch grump-mom, feeling like an asshole every time I say goodnight or drop her off at school in the morning, then I need to rally my own self and make a plan.

So, walking down the stairs last night, after getting her to sleep, I patted my self on the back for getting through Day III of kindness and patience. I'm sure it's not been as bad as I make it out to be in my own head but if something feels off-kilter in our hearts, then it's all we can do to remedy it. So I've rounded up a bit of first-aid kit for how I go about my day to day. So far, it seems to be working.