Welcome to 2021. No resolutions, minimal fan fair. I’m just hoping that this year looks nothing like last year. I’m only a few days into the new year when I have a monumental, mommy meltdown that involved me furiously whipping my bathtub with a pair of jeans, then switching to my sports bra, all while changing into my PJ’s. The coup de grace was me storming out of the house for a late night drive, sneakers half on, no phone and yes, in my PJ’s as previously noted.
Now you might be wondering what caused such a kerfuffle? Let’s say in hindsight, it was a cascading overreaction to a fairly typical event in our house involving a sassy tween that devolved into a parental argument about having each other’s back. It’s us against them and sometimes I mentally detach hoping for an out-of-body experience to escape the monotony of parenting.
During my 30 minute rage drive, there wasn’t a lot of coherent thinking. Mostly out loud babbling about how everyone else could F-off. There’s no justification for my unhinged, psycho rant, but it sure did feel good to release the pressure valve. I’ve been actively working to be calm, rational, ask questions and approach each situation with empathy first, because we are all struggling in our own way.
After I finished indulging my primeval instincts, I collected myself and went home with what little dignity I could muster. You’d think an immediate apology was in order, but not so much. I still felt like I was unfairly targeted for my momentary parental lapse and I’m just not ready to concede.
The interesting side note is this all happened with a basement full of teenagers and they didn’t even notice. I’m actually pretty thankful for their oblivious nature. The last thing I wanted, was my teen cornering me about embarrassing him in front of his friends and hounding me to explain what’s wrong. Normally, I look forward to any opportunity to make them uncomfortable. The good news is I have an entire new year to unleash the psycho.