5 Reasons Why Mama Is Acting Like a Crazy Lunatic this Morning

Oh sweet children.

Dear, sweet children.

You’re both the loves of my life, the sunshine in my day, my whole world is centered around you. Wiping your butts, cleaning up your throw up when you’re sick, losing sleep when you’ve had a bad dream, holding your hand and cheering you up when you fall, worrying about every aspect of your life from the day I saw the two pink lines on the pregnancy test.

I love you.

But every morning, I CAN’T STAND YOU!!!!

Each morning is a battle of wills. A battle of who’s the strongest. A battle of who can hold out longer, who can whine the loudest, who can be the most disrespectful and disobedient.

And you’re driving me crazy.

“Mama, why do you get so angry in the morning?”

REALLY?!?! You can’t tell why mama is angry?!

“Mama – remember what Daniel Tiger says:
(Singing) If you feel so mad, that you wanna roar, take a deep breath and count to 4.”

F*** Daniel Tiger! He’s never had to deal with children who are as defiant and lazy and mean and rude as you two are in the morning!

Here are 5 reasons why mama is acting like a crazy lunatic this morning:

1. You don’t want anything we have to eat for breakfast. I get it. I want to eat these waffles too every morning. But mama doesn’t function well enough at 7am to make homemade waffles. Probably because you each woke up last night, and I had to get up with both of you so I’m dead tired this morning. We have yogurt (“I don’t want yogurt!!!”) granola bars (“I don’t like this kind!!!”) or muffins (“Those muffins have crunchy parts in them!!!”). Oh, you mean nuts? God forbid I give you a muffin with nuts. The same nuts you love to snack on daily? I guess you won’t eat breakfast then. (“But I’m starrrrving!!!!”) Then would you like a muffin? (“No!!! Those are gross!!!”) Then you proceed to throw yourself down on the kitchen floor and scream. I walk away, but you follow me from room to room, crying about how hungry you are. You finally eat two bites of a granola bar. We’re halfway to school when you say, “Mama, I’m hungry!”

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

2. Neither one of you will get dressed. One wants to wear the same tie-dye shirt for the 5th day in a row, the other one wants to wear her bathing suit and high-healed princess shoes. It’s 30 degrees outside. No matter how much I try, I can’t control my anger after we fight for 15 minutes about clothes. Finally, I physically tear the bathing suit off your body and put on something different.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

3. You won’t go potty before we leave. We argue about this for 5 minutes before I’ve had enough. So I pick you up, dodging your kicks (those high healed shoes hurt!) and sit you down on the potty. You flail around, screaming your head off in the tiny bathroom, the echo of each scream piercing my ears, until I finally give up. As soon as we pull out of the driveway, you say to me, “Mama, I have to go potty REAL BAD!”

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

4. Neither one of you will get in the car seat. I know the mini van is fun to play in, but for the love of God, please get in your car seat! I’m done asking you. You still won’t get in? Let me heave my exhausted body into the van and squeeze my huge booty in between the car seats to the back to retrieve you, my disobedient child. I pull you by the arm up to the middle row where your car seat is, while bracing myself, because the tantrum that ensues is so loud that it’s making my ear drums feel like they’re bleeding.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

5. You won’t let me buckle your car seat. Thank goodness we have a garage because years ago, I used to fight this battle with your brother outside in the carport at our old house in the freezing cold. I stand there for 1.5 million hours while you attempt to buckle, struggling and fussing, but refusing to let me help.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

We pull up to the school, and I slam the button to open the van door. I practically push you both out of the car, throwing your bags and jackets out the door. “Please, take these children! Just take them!” I tell the teacher.

I drive back home in my mom-mobile, blasting rock music as loud as I can. I scream and curse and finally let loose all the rage I’ve been holding in the past hour trying to get us out of the house.

Ahhhh…finally a break. I think about what I’ll do when I get home. Perhaps I’ll fix myself a cup of coffee and do some reading. That sounds nice.

Instead I come home to a house that is trashed. There are breakfast dishes everywhere, yogurt on the table, cereal on the floor, clothing thrown about. I drop my purse, roll my eyes, and start to clean. And while I’m cleaning, the mom guilt starts to creep into my brain. I start feeling terrible about how I acted towards you this morning. I’ll promise myself I’ll do better tomorrow.

But tomorrow, I know we’ll fight the exact same battles.

Motherhood.

It’s the best…

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

Like this post? Check out more motherhood humor posts by clicking here!