When Grownups Say Bad Stuff

I think I said something profound after swearing at a fellow motorist yesterday.

It seems like it's the same thing at every four-way stop in America: most other drivers don't know what to do (or, equally likely,  don't care). We were coming home from school like we do every day, and a black SUV proceeded through the intersection when I clearly had the right of way. The split second before the SUV started plowing through, I had stepped on the gas too and was already in the intersection when Ms. Important decided it was okay to proceed.

I reacted like anyone else would--by yelling "a--hole!"

After the SUV actually backed up and we were through the intersection, a little voice behind me asked, "Mom, what does that word mean?"

Oops.

The rest of the conversation went like this:

Me: "Um...it's a bad word."
Bug: "I know."
Me: "I shouldn't have said that. Sometimes grownups say bad words when they get scared and angry."
Bug: "Why would you say bad words when you're scared and angry?"
Me: "Well, honey, when people get scared and angry, their brains have a hard time making good decisions. And sometimes they say or do things they shouldn't."

Then I thought to myself, wow, Prickly Mom, I think you might be on to something profound with that statement there. I'm in a near-constant state of fear and/or anger (which probably explains my high blood pressure, exhaustion, migraines, and a host of other stuff...but I digress).

Let's chew on that one a while. It sounds like a piece of wisdom that might apply in many situations...for all of us.

Yes, I Allow the Kids to Do This

This, ladies and gentlemen, is the Obstacle Course 2000, "the greatest obstacle course ever" (according to my six-year-old).

Was I upset when I walked in the house this afternoon and found the couch in the dining room and the dining chairs in the living room? A little. Stuff like this used to make me really, really angry...and I still wish it wouldn't happen...but it does. I just choose not to flip out.

Bug started walking like he was shot out of a cannon at 10 months old, was climbing ladders at the playground at 11 months, and running all over the house at his first birthday party. I'm not exaggerating.

As a new mom (who was also pregnant at the time with Pie), I was beside myself with this little ball of energy. Not long after the day I walked into the dining room to discover Bug standing on the table, about to swing from the chandelier, (which I absolutely did not allow), my mom came to visit. As we sat in the living room trying to have some coffee and conversation, baby Bug, who was probably close to two years old by then, kept climbing on and off the coffee table in front of us. I remember trying to coax him down, distract him, scold him. He wouldn't stop. My anxiety and despair and helplessness was obvious, and my mom commented, "what's wrong with letting him stand on the coffee table? Think about it in the grand scheme of things. Is it really worth getting so upset over?"

We knew how agile Bug was, and knew that he probably was less likely to hurt himself than a kid who was less acrobatically inclined. So I took my mom's advice and chose not to pick that battle. And that's why my first floor is still, on most days,  home to some incarnation of the Obstacle Course 2000. It's not the perfect solution, but for now, it's one that works.

Explaining Depression to Your Kids

I'm in the middle of another major depressive episode -- and I'm using that term in a clinical sense as well as a literary one. I've been battling mood disorders my whole life, so this isn't anything new. What is making this particular episode different is that I'm realizing it's probably time to explain what's going on to my kids (they're four and almost-six).

I don't want to explain it to the boys ... I'd rather just try to go on as usual and do my best to put on my "happy voice" and muddle through. But I'm starting to get the feeling that they can see through my laughably-bad "normal" act. I know they know something is not right.

Sweethearts, Mommy is sick.

I need to tell them before they think it's their fault (and if they already do think it's their fault, we need to clear that up as soon as possible).

Mommy has an illness called depression. It's kind of different from other sicknesses because you can't see it from the outside. I'm going to get better, but right now, my brain isn't working properly. it's kind of like there's a door in my brain that is stuck shut and none of the "happy" can get out. That makes it easy for all the "sad" and "angry" to take over my brain and make me cry and yell more than I should. My doctors are giving me medicine that will help un-stick the brain door so the "happy" can get out, but it might take a while for the treatment to work. I'm probably going to need to rest more than usual until I feel better. I need you to understand that I love you no matter what. My sickness is making me cry, not you. I still want you to be good boys and follow the rules, but I also want you to remember that it's all the the extra "angries" in my brain that are making me get so upset. I still love you no matter what, and I'm really looking forward to getting better so I can be Regular Mommy again.

More resources:

• 6 Things Every Kid Should Know About a Parent's Depression (this is a MUST-READ)
• Depressed Parents and the Effects on Their Children
• Helping Children Understand and Cope with Parental Depression
• How Depression Affects Your Family

Mommy & Me Anger Management

I wish I could let you all crawl inside my head and watch as I replay a scene from this afternoon.

As you may know, my little Pie (almost four) and I have been struggling with anger issues--separately and together. I've been poring over mom blogs and parenting books for the past couple weeks, trying to come up with a plan of action. In the meantime, we haven't exactly been helping each other keep our tempers in check.

I was lying on my bed trying to lose myself in a novel when Pie came in to ask me to read one of his truck-themed board books. I didn't want to, but I did...and somehow he ended up sitting in my lap as I stroked his grubby little palm with my thumb. I kissed the top of his head and asked, "doesn't that feel good? Doesn't that make you feel nice and calm? I like when someone does that to my hand."

A tiny little light bulb went off in my head then. "You know what, Pie? How about when I start yelling, you grab my hand and stroke my palm to try to calm me down. Wanna practice?" He smiled as I started pretend-yelling, then he picked up my hand and ran his little fingers over my palm. My "tirade" turned into an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Oh, I feel so much better, Pie! You really helped me calm down!"

Then we reversed roles. Pie feigned a tantrum, and then pretended to melt into contentment when I stroked his palm. We took a few more turns until he decided to go outside to play with Daddy.

I guess that's the way you're supposed to do this parenting thing: role play whenever you find an innocuous moment and then hope the information sticks. Just keep trying until something works.

In the meantime, I'm going to share some of the information I've found that I think might be useful in our anger-management quest. There's some good stuff here.

• Social-Emotional Skills for Preschoolers: Regulating Emotions
• Positive Ways to Bypass the Grumps
• Printable Anger Management Charts
• Crazy 8: Top Eight Ways to Help Kids Deal with Feelings

(Actually, I could go on and on...go take a look at my Pinterest board on discipline for many more down-to-earth ideas.)