Zen and the Art of Mommyhood Madness

I’m on the hunt. The temper tantrums, the throwing, the slamming, the yelling, the crying—it’s all too much. “But, he’s two,” you’ll say, “These are all normal things for him to do. He’s learning to express himself.” But it’s not the two-year-old I’m talking about—it’s the thirty-two-year-old who’s the problem. It’s the thirty-two-year-old Mommy who had two kids and has suddenly forgotten how to express herself. Appropriately. In front of her toddler. So, I’m on the hunt. For patience. Anybody seen it? It’s just got to be here somewhere.
Finny, the toddler, is actually a barrel of laughs right now. He has a great sense of humor, a wild imagination, a delightful curiousity, and an affectionate nature that just lights me up, especially after enduring a month of illness where he whined and cried and pouted all the time because he was tired and achy and not feeling himself. But, Mommy, the adult, is having a hard time joining him there in the sweet spot, the carefreeness, the joy. So, I’m looking for my Zen, my enlightenment, my “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff” demeanor.

Yesterday, I looked in the card catalog for anything on patience and motherhood and I found these titles:

• 1, 2, 3 Magic by Thomas Phelan,

• The Happiest Toddler on the Block: How to Eliminate Tantrums, and Raise a Patient, Respectful, Cooperative One to Four-Year-Old by Harvey Karp,

• The No-Cry Discipline Solution: Gentle Ways to Encourage Good Bevhavior without Whining, Tantrums, and Tears by Elizabeth Pantley.

So, I reserved them in hopes that I can glean some wisdom from the experts, but the discouraging thing is, I wasn’t really looking for a book on how to encourage good behavior. I was looking for a book on how to model good behavior. I’m hoping these books will teach me how to “raise a patient, respectful and cooperative child,” by indirectly teaching me how to be a patient, respectful, and cool-headed parent.

The camel’s back broke two nights ago when dinnertime madness ensued. Charlie was screaming bloody murder on his blanket and Finny spilled a full cup of milk all over the kitchen floor and then continued to splash milk all over me as I wiped up the milk on hands and knees below him. This was just after I had mopped the floor and just after making dinner with one crying kid strapped to my chest and the other hanging off my leg as I carefully tried to open the oven door and manage the spaghetti on the stove.

After Finny dropped the milk, I dropped the F bomb. Loud as can be, across the kitchen. Maybe even across the cul-de-sac. My neighbor, Barbara, may have even looked up from her Us Weekly and her Maker’s Mark. That’s right. There was no “Golly darn!” no “Oh, fudgsicles!” not even an “Oh, s*%t!” I went straight for the big dog. It seemed in the moment to be the only truly proper way for me to express how I was feeling. And then I put Finny in time-out. But, the truth is, I’m not sure that the milk spill was even intentional; the time-out was for me.

So, I reserved these three books from the library and I purchased a copy of Soft Spoken Parenting: 50 Ways Not to Lose Your Temper With Your Kids by H. Wallace Goddard.

And then today, at a playdate with four girlfriends, I discovered I’m not the only one who loses her cool with her kids. I’m not the only one who has yet to master the art of “Soft Spoken Parenting.” And it helped. It lightened the load in my big bag of guilt and helped me to forgive myself a little bit.

But, I’m still on the hunt. Deep breaths. Eight hours of sleep. Yoga. A quiet walk. A Bible Study. A glass of Pinot Grigio. Two glasses of Pinot Grigio. Maker’s Mark and Us Weekly with Barbara. A swim. Enya. A night out with the girls. A night out with David. An antidepressant. A multivitamin. A viewing of SNL’s The Best of Chris Farley. A prayer. Serenity Now.

Maybe it is some combination of all of these that will lead me to that sweet spot, the Zen of Parenting, where discipline does not involve a raised voice, a swat on the bottom, or an F bomb dropped over spilled milk. I’m still looking. In the meantime, it was tremendously helpful this morning to discover that some other moms whom I have the greatest respect for also occasionally do and say things in front of their toddlers that they are not proud of. Sometimes even the best mamas need a time-out, a moment to search for the patience that always seems to run and hide right around dinnertime.