Today, I lost it

Today I lost it on my family. I had an all-out mommy tantrum that included throwing boots, rotten cucumbers and my purse.

It started with Kaitlyn falling off the bed. No, wait. It started when I woke up to blowing snow. In April. But I wasn't too mad about it. Yet. Back to the bed.

I put her there while I was getting dressed this morning, and when I turned away to grab a pair of tights she took the opportunity to lunge sideways, hit the soft stool that we have for the cat, and land on a giant euro-pillow. I'll note here that she has gotten safely off the bed several times all by herself and there was absolutely no reason to fall, or freak out about the fact that she landed on a pillow. Disregarding that fact, I scooped her up and consoled her while frantically hunting the house, in my underwear, for a soother. And where was Keith? Holed up in the bathroom, of course. He claims he didn't hear a thing.

Then, as we were getting ready to leave, Kaitlyn started grabbing at the electronics in my purse, knocking everything else off the chair by the door in the process. Normally I have ultimate patience for her curiosity but for some reason, today, this was the last straw. I hurled my purse onto the dryer "No, for the last time you can't have mommy's phone!" I screamed. Keith, sensing that things weren't normal, scooped her up and out of the room immediately. I turned my rage to the boots. "I hate this room, why can't anything ever be put away!" I cried, as I hurled boots and baby shoes at the wall.

Next, I had to pack my lunch. We are getting ready for a trip to Vancouver so we don't have much food in the house and we're somewhat scrounging for meals this week. "How come there's never any groceries unless I plan everything?!" I wailed. "Everything in this fridge is disgusting!" Doors were slammed, old containers of leftovers flew in the general direction of my lunch bag. Two chunks of rotten cucumber were thrown at the compost bin. I missed and there is now rotten cucumber splatter all over my counters. I picked them up and chucked them in the garbage, slamming cupboards and screaming "Screw the compost, screw the stinky garbage, I hate everything!" As I write this, I'm amazed by the fact that I didn't actually lie down on the floor and start kicking and screaming.

Finally, we were all in the car, ready to go. Then I realized it was compost day and the bin needed to be taken out to the road. My final act of rage and frustration was taken out in a stomping, kicking-the-can march down the driveway, in boots and a skirt.

I wanted to share this today because it's the first time I've really lost it as a parent and I hope that some of you can relate, and maybe even feel better about your own frustration, by getting a chuckle out of mine.