Irritable Mom Syndrome, Pt. 2

As I mentioned in my last post, I definitely have a case of Irritable Mom Syndrome. I want to change that. I want my children to have a happy childhood, not because it was perfect, but because Mom was happy.

In order to change, though, I need to know what causes my irritableness. I cannot just wake up one day and decide I'm going to be happy. I've tried that. Wasn't so successful. I'm going to need to change my thinking in other areas first.

"Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is--his good, pleasing and perfect will" (Romans 12:2).

Below is a list of thinking processes and attitudes that I need to re-think and reprogram in my mind, in order to overcome this illness of irritableness. (Which, in reality, is sin.)

I and my plans are more important
Rash actions
Rejecting God's grace
Irrational expectations
Time vs. priority
Attitude of pride
Believing less about myself than God does
Living outside of the moment
Expecting adult behavior

I find that I have the same problem Danielle, who commented on part one, addressed. When I put my plans (housework, business work, etc.) at a higher priority than my children's hearts, I end up getting extremely annoyed at them for continually throwing wrenches into my plans. Love is not selfish. It gives freely.

When I discipline or address issues rashly, without a plan and without consistency, I only cause my children to feel like I do not care about them as much as I care about making sure their behavior is not annoying me. This makes them resistant to me, and in turn, makes me more irritable at the obvious lack of attitude change in them. Love takes the time to nuture the heart while directing the will.

God gives to me unconditional favor and love. When I reject His free gift and try to earn it, I fall flat on my face. I can never be a good enough mother to please Him with my success. I end up frustrated that I "can't do anything right". I need to snuggle up in the never failing grace of God.

The times I am most irritable are the times I look around me and see everything I should be doing right now. And I think to myself, "Why do you not accomplish more? I mean, seriously! There are moms out there with more children than you who have happy children, a spotless home, and make up on their faces. What's wrong with you??" I need to let them go. I need to just focus on the present need at the present moment. As Elizabeth Elliot said, "Just do the next thing."

Sometimes I become obsessed with the clock. "No. I cannot come build a train track with you. It's time to start school with Cherith." "No. I cannot read to you right now. It's time to make supper." Seriously, most of the time, taking a few minutes to fulfill a request would not throw off the rest of the day's schedule.

There are times when the only reason I "get after" one of my children is because they hurt my pride. I am irritated because they did something, said something, or displayed an attidue which poked me right in the pride gizzard. Of course, these moments then become moments of mommy failure, for loving discipline cannot be administered in the presence of mommy pride.

When I walk around as one big failure, I can't help but get annoyed at the ones who "cause" me to fail so often. I need to remember that I am God's creation, designed to bring Him glory. He takes great pleasure in me.

Some days, I realize I am living in a fog. I daydream the hours away, thinking about plans for the future or what I would do if all the kids were grown up, or where I would go if I could have a weekend away, or how nice the next "stage" in life will be compared to the current one. I get annoyed when a child's voice pops my paradise bubble. But while I am dreaming of "better days", I'm missing an entire day in the life of my sweet children.

Something I need to remember... They're still kids. It's often their childish behavior that gets to me. You know, stuff like squeezing acne treatment cream on the brand new carpet {it bleaches, by the way}, dumping an entire box of Cheerios down the furnace vent, throwing toys into a sink full of dirty dishes, squirting nearly 30 oz. of dish soap all over the kitchen floor. These are the things that only young children would do. I happen to have young children... NOT ADULTS. So why do I expect them to behave like adults? I just hope I can train that out of them. I'd sure hate for Ethan's wife to walk in the door from a long evening of grocery shopping and find Ethan standing in a puddle of dishsoap, guilty look on his face and bottle in his hand.


I guess, I can pretty much sum it up with:

Plan for kids. Kids happen. Every day. Every moment. Expect it and take each moment one at time.

Irritable Mom Syndrome, Pt. 1

"Mom!"

"Momeeeeeeee!"

"Hey, Mom?"

That's it! I'm changing my name to Bob. If my name were Bob, and not Mom, then I could ignore every demand addressed to Mom, right?

I have a headache and a sore throat. It seems all I've heard all day is whining and fighting. If we had a dog, I'd literally kick him out the door. {It's probably a good thing we don't.}

The school day is only half successful. I do my best to teach Cherith while Ethan complains and whines because I won't give him a third glass of chocolate milk, let him carry around the entire, just opened box of cereal, draw on the table with a marker, drag more toys out of the closet to add to his already huge mess, or watch a "Mommy/Daddy movie".

I do my best to teach Cherith and deal with Ethan while Faith was climbing all over me and all over the table, pushing everything off the table, and closing Cherith's books while she's using them.

When Daryn comes over to tell me all about the new contraption he just made, I loose my patience and tell him he'll have to wait. The poor kid is visibly crushed as I suck all excitement out of him.

And that's when the guilt comes in. I give him a hug, tell him I am sorry for snapping at him, and ask him to tell me about his contraption. He says he forgot what he was going to say. I kiss him and say I am sorry.

I pull Faith off the table for the hundredth time and tell Ethan to turn off his whiner siren or he'll end up in his room by himself.

I turn to Cherith and tell her to read the words in her book. At this point, she is just as frustrated as I am and cannot even think straight enough to remember how to read.

I sigh and tell her it's recess time. We only accomplished five minutes of schoolwork in the past 45 minutes.

As she runs off to the living room and her siblings follow her, a heavy weight settles upon me. I am the most important person in their little lives right now. More than anyone else in the world right now, they need to know in their deepest of deepest that their mother loves them more immensely. I'm pretty sure I certainly did not demonstrate love to them in the last 45 minutes.

The thing is... this wasn't just a rare bad day. Days like these happen more frequently than I'd like. There's always something that makes me feel irritable with the very people I live for. I guess I have a case of Irritable Mom Syndrome.

In an effort to address this issue, I have to figure out the cause of irritability and acknowledge it for what it is. You can't solve a problem if you don't know what the problem is. {I was never good at the "x+y-z=15... Find y" stuff.}

But, we'll put that off for next time. :)

Ironic. I Remember Now That She's Gone.

(Grandma Edgington surrounded by my aunt, my cousin, and her little kidlets. It's stolen from my aunt's FB, but it's the only photo I have of my grandma on my computer.)

Today is my grandma's birthday. I never remembered it when she was alive. But I've remembered every year since her death. Why is it that I don't take time to stop and think about the people I love until they're gone? Why is it that the busy-ness of my little life is too important to stop and take 30 minutes to call them just to say, "Happy Birthday. I love you."

My grandmother died a week after her birthday. I did not call her on her birthday. I did not send a card. I did send her an email a day late. But really? What's an email to a woman who wrote hand written letters and chatted for an hour or so on the phone once a month with long distance friends? Why was my life more important than her? I wish I had taken the time to call her. I know she would've felt very loved and it would have been sunshine in her long, lonely day.

Every year since then, as her birthday comes around, I think of all the other family members I neglect. My other grandmother, my parents, my siblings... all living their lives. To be honest, I'm not really sure how they're doing. I don't know if I can rejoice with them in their accomplishments and blessings or if I can encourage them during hard times or if I need to lift them up to the throne of God. I don't know, because I'm "too busy" to invest in their lives.

God is seriously giving me a good kick in the seat of my pants right now.