"Stay calm -- you'll have more control."
Some good words from SuperNanny this week. Ones that hit home, since I've been giving a lot of thought to my furious outbursts, beyond my relief that there are no SuperNanny cameras to capture and publicize my indiscretions.
As a kid, I remember respecting my mother more than my father for discipline issues, since Dad was more likely to lose his temper. Mom is much more even-tempered, didn't yell or lose control, but when she was mad at us, we hopped to. Dad was fallible, Mom the pillar who could do no wrong and whose respect we didn't dare lose. (And that's still the case!)
Unfortunately, I take more after my father than my mother in temperament. And I know that my tendency to lose my temper and raise my voice and slam things will ultimately result in my kids not respecting me. They need me to keep cool.
I wish I could be more like my sister, or like Betsy, both of whom are far calmer and more patient than I am. I've seen both of them gracefully handle situations for which I'd have been teetering on the edge of an ugly outburst. Why can't I be more like them? I try, I observe, but I can't consistently implement.
I can give myself a slight pass on two counts, I guess. For one, Betsy and Stephanie's primo troublemakers are really mostly just mischievous. Curious, envelope-pushing, testing, enterprising, endlessly creative. Oh, I know Gina and Remi can dish it out, and I've seen both their moms get frustrated with them. But both girls fall far short of the out-and-out belligerence, defiance, rudeness and incredible obnoxiousness that is my beloved Gabriel. His astounding lack of contrition and relentless determination, combined with my naturally more volatile personality, makes for a constantly brewing tempest. Julian "the sponge" watches and learns and takes on a lot of his big brother's negative behavior. Still, it is perhaps because of this extraordinary challenge that I especially need to keep control.
Pass #2 comes from the spirit-sapping scourge of migraines. I learned in my Most Miserable pregnancy #3 how chronic pain affects you in so many blatant and subtle ways, and chronic headaches are just the same. They make me very short-tempered and irritable, not just from the presence of intense pain, but also from the absence of the little sanity-preserving breaks from children that one is granted at random times throughout the day. Instead, I spend those times lying down, cringing, desperate for a few scraps of nap to give me a little protection from the pain.
The effect of nonstop pain was underscored today when incredibly, I think this 10-day headache storm finally broke. Last night, it wasn't looking good: as I was drifting off to sleep, violent images flashed through my mind, such as an axe digging into my skull, or a shark grabbing my head in its teeth and shaking me back and forth, or a tower of squares building on top of me and crushing me. Disturbing dreams, being woken up by a new wave of pain, being unbearably tired in the morning -- all collateral damage of migraines (not to mention your 3-year-old's hair). They take away the critical refreshers everyone -- especially moms of Gabriels -- need.
But this morning, I had no choice but to scoot everyone out of the house, because the cleaners were coming. I took Julian and Katrina to the Y, in the hopes Katrina would get a nap there, and to work out for a few minutes. (As it turns out, I spent 20 minutes signing Julian up for a week-long morning daycamp, which he'll do during Tonya's vacation later this month!) Then I did a few half-hearted ab exercises, and then whisked off my mini kit-n-kaboodle to swim class.
And through all this, forgot about The Pain.
Poor Katrina only had a 10-minute nap at the Y, and she was a mess the rest of the day. And what a day to be crying at swim class: Dave stopped by to see them, and all he saw was his little daughter miserable. She took a long nap later, but she cried so hard several times today that she was coughing uncontrollably.
But during Katrina's nap this afternoon, a wonderful thing happened. I didn't try to nap. I read email. I sorted through address labels. I scanned an interesting article. I web-surfed. I sat and chatted with Julian about his treehouse drawing. I made some peach sauce for Katrina. I talked about cashews and moons with Julian. I chilled. I putzed. I relaxed. I enjoyed my son.

Who, after he'd had his fill of Mom's attention, requested his Sesame Street CD, and promptly fell asleep on the floor, a la brother. I guess he needed a nap too, oops.
Then when Katrina woke up, I played a game with her and Julian, in which Julian hid under a blanket and we "looked" for him. All three of us were giggling and laughing and just being silly.
Who's this happy, fun, playful Mom, laughing and enjoying her children? When's the last time I was like that? What's different?
What's different is that I think, I hope, I really hope, I was experiencing a phenomenon I've only recently come to recognize: an odd burst of energy at the end of a migraine. It's like whatever resources my body summons to finally oust the headache go into overdrive, leaving me briefly inspired, optimistic and full of energy and cheer.
Or maybe it's just that I decided to have some caffeinated coffee.
Whatever it was, it made for a pleasant -- even delightful -- afternoon, even though Katrina was really at her worst. Poor thing, something was bothering her, though I never figured out what. She went right to sleep after crying through her bath tonight (she never
ever cries in the bath anymore!), so I think she was just really really tired. Missing a morning nap really messes up the whole day.
Here she is really, really,
really trying to crawl, and getting frustrated (unlike her, but again, it was a bad day for her):