Bat $hit Crazy with Unconditional Love
I don’t know how the term bat shit crazy came about. Bats and I have a co-existent agreement: they come out at night and, due to the nature of my work, I’m out by day. Therefore, I have never witnessed a bat in the act of pooping nor do I know if I have ever seen bat feces. Still yet, ‘bat shit crazy ‘ seems absolutely the perfect term to describe me when I allow my children to be in the driver’s seat of my emotions.
I don’t always let this happen. I actually had a Zen Mom moment recently. It was a late Thursday night, which, in my family, is that time of the week comparable to the end of the Israelite’s long trek through the desert. Upon pulling out of the baseball park at 8:45 pm from a practice that ended at 8:30, my son realized that he left his backpack in his dad’s truck, which was on its way to a house nearly 30 minutes away. His realization brought on an onslaught of grumbling from his sister. Exhaustion allowed my son to easily be pulled into her wave of negative energy and, so, he went full blast into rebuttal mode. Although also tired, I was able to keep my act together (a.k.a. not lose my shit). In a soothing tone, I reminded them that it was just an accident and we could easily call his dad to find a meeting place. I stayed firm in my positivity for one more minute and before I knew it, they didn’t even remember they were upset. But, it doesn’t always happen like this.
In most areas of my life, I stay in a Namaste zone. As I explained in What Not to Do, if someone complains to me, I bubble myself in my happy place while they vent. When their spewing is finished, I come up with a positive lament, like, “I know, but it’s almost Friday.” On my hour hike to work and back home in rush hour traffic, I listen to positive podcasts and meditation music. I’m in such a mellow state that I almost smile when drivers cut me off. But with my kids, it’s often another story. I would guess that the reason they have more control over my emotions than other people is because their bodies were formed inside of me and my blood is their blood. However, I know parents of adopted children get sucked into the crazy with their kids too. So my new thinking is that the vibrational signals of the youth just must be stronger than those of their elders; the momentum of their energy just takes us along with them.
For example, I am sad to admit that over the past couple of years, my youngest two have dragged me down to the hollows of their ongoing saga feud over the front passenger seat more times than I can count. As a former educator, please know there have been procedures, plans, schedules and charts created to work this out but, like many lessons with good intentions, the success of their implementation decreased over time. Or, more likely, I have less energy than my kids and they arrive to my car before I do and we all forget whose turn it is. There are times when both kids have been sanctioned to the back seat; this solution punishes me more than them. I have to wonder when reasonableness will finally set in with this issue and one will modestly let the other person sit shot-gun just because. Until then, I suspect I will continue to have to force everyone to the back seat after they can’t figure the situation out, which will be followed by a silent, angry ride.
Other recent actions from my children that have pushed hormonal, or tired, or over-it-already Mom past the edge have been: putting unusually large trash in the small receptacles of the house (see picture: annoying, right?), waking up griping at everyone in sight, drinking about half of a water bottle and leaving it right where they took the last sip, slamming the car door whey they didn’t get their way, arguing over the music playing in the car, wrestling when the other didn’t want to wrestle, screaming at video games, and not communicating their where-abouts.
I was inspired to write this post because I discovered a blog called “Scary Mommy” and the title struck me. I scare myself sometimes when I allow my kids’ actions to route me to my ugly side. They are good humans and the crazy isn’t every day; it just immediately feels so bad when we don’t vibe as high as we could. In her book, “Girl, Wash Your Face,” Rachel Hollis says she has screamed at her kids and I have to admit, I simply find comfort in other moms admitting entrance into bat shit crazy mode.
I also find it encouraging to draw upon the wisdom of other mothers. The words of one awesome mom of three have remained with me for almost two decades now. Her knowledge came my way when my oldest was my only. She said that the goal of parenting is to raise our kids to be able to flourish without us. In essence, we are to love them so much that they don’t need us. Another helpful word of advice came from my realtor when I was pregnant with number three. I remember very clearly when she asked me if I knew the key to parenting. Respecting her age of 70, of course I asked her what she had come to learn. Her answer was simple. “Love them.”
If I judge my parenting on those two points, I can truly say I’m batting 1,000. I love my children unconditionally, meaning they could be rotten, hateful even, and I would still know with certainty that they each hold a treasure inside that I appreciate whole-heartedly. And all three have proved that they can indeed survive without me (though the boys live on mostly microwave food while wearing semi-dirty clothes when I’m MIA). Yet, while being successful with these two factors, I’m still not exactly confident that I won’t end up as the old lady with a twitch who mumbles to herself and finishes the day in a padded room. Alas, like all other things, framing it positively is the key, so here are some upsides to bat $hit crazy that I have gathered:
- I get a lot done when I’m in angry mode. Like a lot. For example, after last weekend’s front seat fight I completely detailed the inside of my vehicle. And washed two loads of dishes. And scrubbed the stove. And cleaned the espresso machine, including the inside with a toothbrush. And made omelettes and cleaned those dishes. And cut down one rusty length of my chain-link fence. And pulled weeds. And sawzalled Mulberry bushes. And grocery shopped.
- After the insane moments have passed, we always go through an act of apology and reconciliation. In other words, we grow from the experience.
- I have learned to appreciate my alone time. I sincerely relish and savor silence now.
Well… that’s about all I could come up with right now and it took a few days post-crazy to come up with those. If I am going to succumb to complete insanity, I would prefer to do it in the name of unconditional love than for any other reason, like a job or traffic. Although being a mom has been my most stressful role, it’s also been my most rewarding. I suspect that my children will continue to bring me the most proud, memorable (and enraged) moments in my life. Venting about it here, spiced with a bit of humor, helps me along the way. So, thank you for showing up. Also, knowing that I’m in good company while traveling the Bat Shit Crazy Mom road is helpful, so feel free to share your stories with me. I promise to keep your name anonymous in subsequent posts.
Pingback: From Problems to Procedures – The Woman Strong