Stream of Consciousness

It's raining hard. The driver's side window on my car is off the track and there is a 4" gap. It's been like that for over a week and, of course, it's rained pretty much every day this past week. I like this kind of rain and these dark, grey days. On a day like this there's no going outside (there's lots of close lightning strikes) and you plan accordingly. I don't like little pissy rains that just make everything damp. And, while I'm on the topic, you should know that I don't like being damp or wet or walking in wet grass or having some dog rub its wet nose on my knee or being squirted with a squirt gun. It's just one of the many things I've learned about myself in 39 years of hard livin'.

I was an ass to my kids last night. We've been really slack about bedtimes and even beds lately. The ideal is that both boys are in their respective beds by 8:30. But Mark is afraid of pumas, wolves, and coyotes (why do kiddie horse movies always show horses being traumatized by pumas, wolves, coyotes?!) and sure that they'll bust in and run up the stairs and so, most nights, weasels his way out of having to go upstairs to bed. Stevie has charmed his way into staying up past 9 and, in his weariness, gets all pissy, annoyed, and annoying.

That happened last night and I'd had enough of it. So I yelled like a big, stupid bear and marched them upstairs to their beds and Stevie was already stressed out about all the extra school work that he has to do because he's smart ("I'm not really that smart--why do I have to do all these hard worksheets?!") and he was overly tired and when a terrified Mark tried to weasel his way into Stevie's bed and Stevie started yelling at him to get out I bellowed up the dark stairs and into the dark room and REALLY scared the shit out of both of them. I placed Mark into his bed, went downstairs, and listened to both of them crying while I tried, unsuccessfully, to get hooked up to the Internet. Stevie asked me, "Why do you scare me sometimes?" and I actually answered "Because sometimes nothing else works!" The dear reader should know that I never laid a hand on these kids or called them names or anything, but an angry parent with a loud voice is quite enough to make me look like a jackass on my inner parent-cam and it doesn't do a whole lot to keep peace in my household. I begged forgiveness this morning and vowed to get that impatience worked out.

I've always been quick to blow my top, and I still tend to feel better only after breaking something or kicking something or yelling really loud. Why is that? Is it because the clean-up reminds me that whatever I did to make the mess was a real jackass move? I've worked a lot of anger issues out over the years but, as you can read, not completely. What am I so stressed about?

No, we still don't have any money and that limits our choices and, nearing 40, I'm starting to feel the pinch of time. Kevin comes home for dinner and then heads back to work so I have been a single mom in the evenings. That is fine most times but, as you can read, not all the time. Being overweight and out of shape takes it toll on my psyche and my energy level, but that is a problem with an obvious cure. My jobs are secure and I enjoy them. So what's up? How can I make myself better? Calmer?

Yesterday after work the boys and I walked around the pasture and down by the pond. Stevie was hunting for frogs and he's not allowed in the pasture by himself (cows, horses--nice animals, but I don't totally trust them around the kids and they weigh a LOT). Mark followed him down by the shoreline of the pond and got sucked into the mud. I had to pull him out and he nearly sacrificed a shoe to the gooey mess. But it was fun! And it was a beautiful day and I was so thankful that my kids get to grow up in a small town with room to roam and nature to play with. And then I ruin it with my temper. Where is that place I need to get to? Because the last thing I want to do is pass that temper along to my wonderful children.