The yelling that took place in the house this morning has my head feeling like it’s been in a vice.
It wasn’t hateful, fighting yelling either. No one was even mad. Well, maybe I was a little. It seems my kids can’t hear me unless I repeat myself at least eight times and raise my voice a bit with each reminder.
Also, all my kids like to wear earbuds all the damn time. So instead of talking to each other, and to me, as they ask if we have anymore peanut butter, or if we have plans for the evening, their voices project loud enough so they can hear it over the blaring hip-hop party happening in their ears.
Of course, they don’t like to get up for school. Or to share a bathroom. Or when I remind them to brush their teeth because sitting in a car with three teens who have morning breath melts my nose hairs.
There is no peace and quiet in a house with three teens.
So, after I slammed my open palm on their doors to tell them it was time to move, and they popped in their buds to get ready for the day, no one was talking at a normal volume as we crammed out the door—not peaceful by a long stretch.
Teenagers are always hungry and happy to tell you there’s no food. You’re always running to the store, forgetting something and running back to the store so you don’t have to listen to them complain. No peace found in that situation.
My kids find it more fun to have friends over, change the plans as often as humanly possible, and put their social life above all else. I try to be calm and peaceful for longer than a few minutes, but it’s just not happening.
The other night my daughter had friends at our house for a sleepover. As I was drifting off to sleep, they decided to go downstairs and watch a scary movie at full blast and pop popcorn.
After hearing a few of my choice words from the top of the stairs, they turned it down a bit and I slept. That is until I was jarred awake by my daughter who’d given herself bangs after midnight (never a good idea) and was very upset about the results. Oh dear.
My house wasn’t peaceful with three toddlers. The elementary years were also dicey and have left me with scars. But, somehow I thought that when they reached the teen years, were more self- sufficient and could drive I’d find some peace. I still looking for it but obviously I’m wasting my time.
Even get any when I sit in our car in the garage, it’s not peaceful. They find me. Or my son has the car. It’s certainly not behind the closed doors of the empty pantry. That’s just a reminder I need to go to the store. Again. And certainly not in the privacy of my own bed as I’m trying to sleep on a Friday night while my kids are watching scary movies and giving each other haircuts because it’s too early to expect them to sleep.
There are schedules to follow and growing bodies to feed. There’s a lot of flying by the seat of my pants as I try to address important issues that arise. I never want to say to my kid, “I need a day or two to process what you are going through right now, I’ll get back to you.”
I want to be “all in” at those moments and that can leave a mom wondering if she handled the topic in the most helpful way. Second guessing yourself as a parent? So. Not. Peaceful.
My home is filled with a lot of things: dirty socks, cereal crumbs, laughter and dissatisfaction, but peace is not one of them.
Some days I wear the chaos better than I do on others. But you can bet your ass I don’t do it without Advil, a hidden chocolate stash, and permission to let myself run a hot shower and stare at the wall.
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