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January 30, 2007 Outmatched 
There's nothing like having your own eagerly-anticipated sick day (following an exhausting week of caring for one's offspring's sickness) being upstaged by one's spouse's much more dramatic illness (in a bodily fluid sort of way) to make a mother very cranky. At least, it makes this mother cranky. After a week of no sleep, followed by a developing cold on Saturday, to be then solely responsible for child care on Sunday while one's spouse recuperates in the guest bedroom is no fun. On Monday, following the weekend that wasn't, to be solely responsible again for getting the child up, fed, drugged (her cough lingers), dressed, jacketed, strapped in, and delivered to the childcare facility that is twenty minutes out of one's way, while one's own cold develops apace and one wishes only for one's own comfortable bed is one definition of misery. What pushes a mother over the edge, however, is when one's darling child chooses that very morning to practice their developing tantrum skills. I still can't it a temper tantrum, as there was no temper; however, the sobbing, coughing and projectile snot over not being given more time to finish the orange juice that she had to that point refused to touch was most impressive, as was its continuation through dressing, hairbrushing and jacketing. Twenty minutes later, when oen had her strapped in the car and was already twenty minutes late for work, not counting the driving-out-of-one's-way part, while a mother starts the engine and Frances continued to wail in her carseat, the edge of her blue winter coat pucked up around her face becoming damp and dark with tears, a mother might be a little frustrated. A mother may, in fact, shout: "For fuck's sake, Frances! All this over a cup of orange juice!" Then a mother may, while driving, remember the snowpants hung on the hook of the laundry room door, the toque on the front hall table, and the lack of object for show and tell. One may tell oneself that if one is going to throw a fit over a glass of orange juice one does not want to drink, one may perhaps need to face a consequence of not being able to play outside or participate in show-and-tell that day. Ten minutes later, when the wailing has ceased, the mounting irritations no matter how legitimate will not spare a mother from a truckload of remorse and guilt, when one's offspring calmly says from the back seat: "You shouldn't shout at me, Mummy." Well played, Frances. Posted by Andrea at January 30, 2007 6:31 AM under Mothers and Anti-Mothers EMAIL this entry (comments fields are below this section) Comments Feel better. You've (literally) got it coming at you from all sides. Posted by: Deidre Aufiero at January 30, 2007 8:07 AM
Argh. Well played, indeed. Ivy usually says, "Mom, you neet a say you're surry for yelling. Iss not vury nice a me." I think that's okay, though. Our kids are learning that their mothers have limits and the importance of apologizing. That's a good thing, right? Right? Posted by: Casey at January 30, 2007 8:44 AM
Oh my goodness. There's NOTHING that annoys me more than a sick spouse. I try to do the gingerale and chicken soup thing, but really I'm just so IRRITATED by it, and even more irritated because my irritation is unjustified. Posted by: bubandpie at January 30, 2007 8:57 AM
very well played, little one... however, i think while the residual guilt is not pleasant, your actions were totally understandable. Posted by: suze at January 30, 2007 10:27 AM
Oh, man, I am so feeling you. I've had a couple of moments like that while Joe's been gone. It's hard because my first instinct is to run when I'm upset (mainly so that I won't say anything mean), but I can't do that with a toddler. I, like Casey said, am learning to apologise and trying to look at it as a lesson in, "nobody's perfect". I've tried over and over again to convince Joe that he's got absolutely no right to get sick when I am...especially because I'm such a trooper and he isn't. :) Posted by: NotSoSage at January 30, 2007 10:44 AM
Aw, Frances, of course you're right, but...Mummy is human. Sorry you snapped at her, but totally understandable. Even the perfect little Frances can push a button from time to time. Posted by: yankee,transferred at January 30, 2007 1:08 PM
Wishing you a well rested and illness-free household in short order. Hopefully, Frances will soon tire of exploring the "temper" thing too! Posted by: Miche at January 30, 2007 3:19 PM
argh a laga- that's one reason i'm happy he can't speak yet. :) Posted by: bridget at January 30, 2007 6:57 PM
Nice to know I'm not the only one who loses it from time to time, when everything feels like it's piling up on top of you. There's a quote from somewhere, I don't know where it comes from, but I remember it and it's very funny. I can handle one day at a time, but sometimes several days gang up on me. Hope your week gets better. Posted by: deb at January 30, 2007 7:10 PM
Oh, our young ones are so much smarter than we usually give them credit for, aren't they? And as for the tears and drama related to the orange juice extraction? I think it's confirmed officially now: Frances is a real kid after all! *wink* Posted by: Peanutbuttersmum at January 30, 2007 10:28 PM
Well played, indeed! How do they know *exactly* what to say? Posted by: em at January 31, 2007 6:21 AM
PBM--is not! :p YT--as it turns out, she can push several at once. Thankfully, she does not often choose to. Casey, it is a good thing, but this too does not assist much with the guilt/remorse. Posted by: Andrea at January 31, 2007 3:20 PM
Last night I swore at my son, who wriggled and giggled in bed for 15 minutes, keeping awake his little sister who was extraordinarily tired... He replied, "You're not a very good mom!" RRRRgh. So I apologized & he forgave me and gave me a hug. And stopped wriggling and went to sleep. I lose it on my kids about once a week, once every two weeks, which is probably pretty good odds but man, I know what you mean about the guilt. Posted by: Jennifer at February 1, 2007 1:32 PM
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