...And I'm Not Proud of It....

A few years ago, my middle daughter (5 at the time) showed me just what I looked like when I was having a fit...and it was not pretty...

It was the morning rush to get off to school on-time.  Everyone was rushing to get backpacks, shoes, last minute bites of toast and swigs of milk, keys and all other essentials before leaving the house.  She made it down the steps to the front door first and was trying her best to get the door open.  Now, something was wrong with the handle that would only happen when either she or I touched it, and not every time...My theories about demon possession and government conspiracy were always dismissed by my husband and son; both of whom never had any trouble with the door.  "User error," they claimed, with smirks and high fives.  Well, she was trying to get the door opened and the tension was mounting...she has always been somewhat explosive...by the time I got down there and my husband made it to the top of the stairs, she was in full melt-down stage: "Damn, door!" she kept screaming, all while kicking, pounding, tugging and frothing at the mouth.  I was horrified - one two levels.  First, I was afraid she was going to blow up, like one of those cartoon characters, complete with steam from the ears and a train whistle...But, the second reason was much more personal.  It was like seeing myself in the mirror for the first time.  I was speechless.  I was mortified.  I tried to calm her down, partly because I was worried about her, but also because I couldn't stand to see myself anymore.

All the while, my husband is perched at the top of the stairs howling with laughter.  She could have exploded, and he is laughing!  And when she calmed down, even she & I had to laugh. We both realized that she was acting exactly like me - right down to the expletives and the pounding on the door.

To this day, that story comes up from time to time around the dinner table, or after another one of my tantrums...we all have a good laugh about how funny it was to see my little "mini me."  And I do laugh.  It was funny, in a way.  But, that experience also taught me how influential my role as mom really is.  Nothing I do escapes them, and I shape them both by the good that I do, and the not so good.

I have to say that I don't have nearly the same number of tantrums as I did before.  And they register far lower on the Richter Scale.  Turns out menopause and a certain medication I was taking were making them worse.  Now, they are more like mini eruptuptins that last for only a few shouted lines before I regain control.  Unfortunately, for my daughter, the road to peace and calm is a bit rockier...she's got a pretty firmly engrained learned behavior that we are working on a little at a time....but at least we can laugh about it!

SerenitySeeker SerenitySeeker
41-45, F
1 Response Feb 19, 2009

Thanks for sharing your story, it was both inspiring and funny. I really enjoyed it. Have a beautiful and blessed day.