Dearest Children,
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My sweet darlings, momma will always be here for you. Come to me with anything: your needs, your fears, your worries, your victories. I love you and I live and breathe for you. For you my offspring my door is always open.
Unless it’s closed. If the bedroom door is closed then go the hell away!
Yes I love you, yes I will help you, and yes I will forever be here for you, but if I have stormed into the bedroom door and firmly shut it- then you must not enter. This is my signal, my white flag, my “Momma needs a break” cue. You have screamed, fought, whined, and argued from dusk til dawn and I have reached my breaking point. This doesn’t mean that I have turned my back on you kids, (although in a physical sense I probably did do that as I ran for sanctuary,) it merely means: GO ASK YOUR DAD!
I have not left you all to fend for yourselves in the wilderness now. I have left you in your capable, loving and intelligent father’s care. Whatever is distressing you and causing you to create those little primal screams I hear, he can handle it- believe me guys! I would not have married him if he were incapable of getting you juice, finding your barbie or changing the channel on the television. You can trust in him, and you should.
Being everyone’s everything is an amazing gift and responsibility that you children have bestowed upon me, but it is also a heavy burden some days and occasionally that burden breaks momma’s back. When it becomes too much to bear I have two choices here: lose my ever loving mind in front of you all or remove myself from the insanity for ten minutes. I need to breathe, think, decompress and make a plan. I have to plan out how to better meet all of your needs all at once…All.Of.The.Time. That is a hefty plan to create and execute on a 24-7 basis don’t you think guys?
This is where daddy comes in. Your race past him to bring your bickering to my closed door. I can hear you all fighting on the other side even though I have turned the bathroom fan on in hopes of drowning out your sounds. Bring that drama right back downstairs to your father. Stop knocking, stop calling my name and stop twisting the doorknob in an effort to break into my space. Realize that this bedroom door mine as well be made of solid iron. It is not opening until I get my ten minutes of solitude. Take your spat straight back down those stairs and allow your daddy to mediate. Yes, he does it differently and yes you will probably get a different result. Yes, that is okay and you will all survive these next ten mom-less minutes.
Daddy knows where the snacks are.
The man knows where the hairbrushes, toothbrushes and sippy cups can be found as well.
He can work the IPad, television, LeapPad and Wii far better than I can, that is for sure.
He enjoys playing with you, interacting with you and being there for you, if you would give him even the smallest of opportunities to prove himself you would see this. When one door closes (like my bedroom door) another one opens…like the den door! Go in there right now and look for your dad.
I love you all, but at this moment my bedroom door must stay closed to you so that my heart can forever remain open.
Love,
Your Mother in Hiding
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Kristin McCarthy
Tinybeans Voices ContributorKristin is a blogging SAHM of 4 unruly princesses. When she is not busy raising humans and vacuuming up toys she can be found at the local Target or hiding in her laundry room where she writes for Red Tricycle, Suburban Misfit Mom and Sammiches and Psych Meds.
