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  • Molly

Snapped

Updated: Jan 22, 2019

I snapped tonight. Shouting at the top of my lungs to be heard from the kitchen in all rooms of the house, kind-of snapped. I was tired or repeating myself over and over ... and over again. Our night was crazy. For the third night in a row we got dressed or our swim meets, packed our bags and hit the road for the competition. Our swim meets are also kind of a social event, so this involves me trying to slap any decent hair and makeup combo plus a classy outfit together while getting kids out the door without forgetting goggles and other essentials.


Toward the end of Tom's dive meet, I was already tired. Tired on the heat. Annoyed with the sweat beads all over my body trickling down my limbs and torso under my sundress. My petals covering my ta-tas sliding down because the adhesive is no match for my natural perspiration in one-hundred degree weather. Sam was not listening and testing me like crazy. Tom was not sticking with his team but instead causing trouble on another side of the pool. Then, the tornado siren goes off. For real, it's not the first Monday on the month, This is not a drill.


The final divers finish up and I decide to have the kids place all belongings in the car in case we need to make a run for it soon. Luckily, we got a go spot on the lot tonight. (It's the little things!) As I'm making this 'gather everything' announcement the wind really picks up and I grab little Sam and ask other kids to follow me quickly as we dart for the car. A 7 foot tree limb crashed on the pool deck and missed us by two feet. As we passed through the exit gate surrounded by bunches of kids and parents my dress, caught in the swift winds, flew up over my head - straight Monroe style. But, we had to keep moving. The sky was green and I was not only trying to my get kids to shelter but two of our best friends and neighbors as well. Lifting little humans into the car and pulling up radar in the front seat, I was seeking a way home around the storm. As we exited the aquatic center, a tree fell on a power line sparking loudly and bright about ten feet in front of our car. As you can imagine I pulled one very quick U-turn and began brainstorming nearby restaurants where we could take shelter indoors and where I could feed all six kids. I was not having luck.


After trying many local eateries, I finally landed on one that could seat us in less than an hour. But, I hadn't won the night, yet. Kids were arguing over iPads. (I really do hate screens for kids in time of transition and socialization.) Kids were running around, standing on stools, attempting to squirt ketchup and mustard like water guns at each other. I couldn't wait to get our food and get home.


This is all a massive vent session right? I was stressing on safety. I was stressing on feeding everyone. I was hot as all hell. Tired of the arguing. Missing my husband who is working nights this week ... I ran out of gas. Coaching myself on staying calm. Don't get worked up. Thirty seconds post inner pep talk, I snap. It's as if I talk to no one. It's as if when I give a plan or ask for patience or try and give simple steps, "like jammies and teeth brushing, GO!" None of it sinks in. Not tonight at least.


Our kids are great. They are full of love. They are normal kids laughing with me and testing me daily. I'm pretty sure I'm a normal parent, too. But tonight, I was not the adult. When I entered kiddo bedrooms for goodnight snuggles I had some repairing to do. Apologies for losing my cool. Promised to work on my volume during times of frustration. Explanations of stress during wild times under pressure. Asking for more cooperation and listening from them. Discussions of how we can work together during intense hours of the day. Hard hugs and lots of tears. My outrage of course ignites their little hearts to miss mom in heaven that much more. In these moments we squeeze each other extra tight. We talk about how sadness is a true sign of loving strongly - a quality of which to be proud and to own with a high head.


I do think I tucked our little ones in tonight feeling very loved. (Sam actually insisted during goodnight kisses that I have a birthday party with presents and cake for myself.) I do think it'll be vital to greet them in the am with even more love. I am not perfect. I can do better. My god, I am so tired. I'm so scared and sad about being even worse when or if Matt and I ever find ourselves expecting. I snapped tonight. Hopefully tomorrow, I won't. Sometimes, it's just so much.

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