Monday, November 19, 2007

Down time

My dad is down to help with childcare while Al works for the union up to the election. We've been all having our butts kicked by the kids who have reached new levels of challenging behaviour. Dad said something the other day that made me almost cry with relief. He said the girls are difficult kids (and without going in to my own family history, Dad knows a thing or two about difficult kids). I used to think it was a dreadful thing to call kids difficult, to label them with our own perceptions of 'appropriate' behaviour. I thought any troubles with interactions, discipline, etc were the result of family dynamics. I say 'Ha! Get down off your high horse' to that previous, pious self. Golly she was an annoying twit and she's getting her come-uppance now.

It was so good to hear that it's not just me and Al, that it's not just that we're not cut out for this parenthood gig and found out a little too late. We've been able to stop self-flagellating quite so much, knowing it's not just that we somehow don't make the grade. My kids are difficult. My kids are difficult. It doesn't solve any of the problems we're facing, but some days it's enough to keep me going until the blessed 7pm bedtime.

I'm taking a break from writing because I realise that if I continue all there'll be is 'my kids are difficult' written with varying degrees of relief and resentment, and without any resolution. And one day I hope to show the girls this blog, and I don't think my kids need to know how desperate we often feel in the face of their behaviour. Plus, blogs help us notice and make sense of things but I need words to express that noticing, and the words are fast drying up under the 4.50 am wake ups, the constant screams and anger and violence and whinging and disobedience and dangerous behaviour both girls direct against each other and against us. There comes a time when there's not much more to say, when there's just a primal scream of 'make it stop', whirling in my belly and barely blocked from escaping out my throat wwith a violent and ugly force. There's only so many ways I can write my girls are difficult without becoming boring and repetitive and whiney.

So I'm going to stop finding well wrought ways of saying "what the f*** is going on in my life?" and I'll try to figure it in other ways instead. I'm going to post up photos of my garden, of the girls, of the things that make me happy in the interim, and when there are some more interesting words I'll start typing them in again.

10 comments:

Em said...

Oh Kris, that's why I started my blog; the original one was overtaken by desperate parenting and personal moments, that mostly sounded like uninspired whinging and I didn't want my journal to reflect such a skewed view of our little world... for the record, you don't sound whingy, just tired xxx Garden pics are good. Love how the Mutalabis really does look like silk in your pic below.

Em said...

PS it is good to vent and clear the air, but some wks there's so much of that going on that I need to just breath in the garden before The Really Scary Woman breaks out of her coffin. My words sound pretty crap this morning, but I wanted you to to know you're not alone.

Kez said...

{{HUGS}}. You sound like you need them!!

Lost in a reverie... said...

em's right, you sound tired rather than whingy. Anger and desperation (alongside guilt) are awful feelings to experience - I hope you felt a little better after writing this post. Take to your garden when you can and restore your self.
Lv
j

Crazy Mumma said...

From one seriously tired parent to another, you have my sympathy! And to echo the previous comments, you don't sound whingy - but I know that it gets to feel like that sometimes. For me, I'm just glad that there are other people like me in the world, who deeply love their kids but struggle to get a grip on parenthood some days :-) {{{Hugs}}} Looking forward to pics as gorgeous as your divine roses. Cheers, Julie.

Daisy said...

After reading your blog, I sighed with relief and sympathy! My Miss Seven was a perfect baby. She did everything by the book and had only caused me misery on one shopping expedition but otherwise for the last seven years I have always said, shes the perfect baby, the perfect child. Seven years later I find myself with Master 5 months. He is whingy, clingy, hungery and just a completely different child. I'm in tears most days at about 3pm and have had to leave the house on several occasions in fear that I would smother him just to get a moments break from the retched screaming that comes from his tired little throat.Why cant he just go to sleep as it would take alot less energy wouldn't it? I love him to bits- more than I thought I would ever love a son (I was hoping to having another girl) but I question myself at some point each and everyday " Why the f#%k did I come back for seconds?" I had such high expectations on myself that I would be an even better mother to my second "perfect" baby and would enjoy every moment of it but its all gone to shit and I'm slowly realising that it will be a long and tiring process of raising my son. And unfortunatly Miss 7 is copping alot of undeserved anger which i hate myself even more for. I know that we will all get through this but I just feel so tired and angry all the time. So I too look forward to your picture posts as you will make me happy too. Thank you Kris for being so open with your struggles and remember you are not alone! xoxo
P.s I am sooooo NOT going back for thirds!! lol

Kris said...

Hi folks, thankls to you all. Yes, I am tired, and I think there needs to be much more discussion on what this does to us emotionally, physically, spiritually, socially etc. But like Daisy I can categorically say, there shall be no third!

traceyleigh said...

I so relate to this. It is why I have been quiet for such a long time on my own blog on another site. I just don't have it in me or it is just tooooo negative.

So {{hugs}}. Hope you've been enoying our lovely weather

xxx

Karen said...

Kris, my youngest (of four children) is now 14. For a decade I was a zombie. None of my kids slept through the night until they were four years old. One (the eldest) was, and still is at age 22, difficult. I had to learn to be tough with him - and I also got some professinal help. The others were easy in comparison. Here's the thing to remember - these days will pass. You'll greet the milestones: no more nappies; they can put on their own seatbelts; they can get their own breakfast; etc and before you know it, life is much easier. And I know that while things are difficult, you are still loving them and your life with them, just as I did with mine.

blue milk said...

You make sense of everything, when I read your writing I feel like I am having one epiphany after another. By all means take breaks from writing when you need to because sometimes the dust needs to settle on something before you want to tackle it but never ever think that you aren't managing to write something worth reading.