Bad Moon Rising

I hate to see my children cry.

Even more, I hate it when they are screaming at each other, running, and generally being ridiculously annoying. Please don’t say something like, “Those sweet children could never be annoying!” Yes, they could. Quite well and quite loudly.

So today, I hated to see them cry, but it had to be done. Yup. And I did it. The full moon comin’ to Jesus. Can I get an amen?

I have no idea if it really has anything to do with the moon or if it just takes me 28 days to build up enough steam to really lose it. We had a great day up until it was time to make supper. (Please refer to my earlier posts if you need to know how supper goes.)

It was actually going fairly smoothly. The two oldest had been at each other all day, but nothing new. So I was getting the pizza ready, and I needed to make a phone call. I asked Thing 2 to bring me the phone. While he was gone to do this I realized I had a phone next to me, so I asked him to put the other one back. And chaos ensued.

Thing 1 decided that Thing 2 should not be allowed to hang up the phone since, “He shouldn’t have it anyway!” Thing 1 was screaming at the top of his lungs at his brother, and a fight broke out. Had I been Thing 2, I would have punched thing 1 in the mouth. Hard. Someone is going to do this to him one day, and he will have deserved it.

That said, I try very hard to avoid violence in our house because things are already pretty volatile with three boys. To quote The Secret Garden as portrayed in the Hallmark film I watched 849 times in elementary school, “Where you tend a rose, a thistle cannot grow.” I tried. I tried to tend roses. I really did. But the screaming and fighting was fertilizer to my thistles.

I came to Thing 2’s defense as fast as I could since he was acting on my directions. But Thing 1 was all in a lather. I finally had to bonk him (gently) on the head to make him realize he was screaming at me. ME! Hello?! That is not how you are gonna talk to your mother, son!

At this point, I was HOT! So I did what had to be done. I banished all children to their rooms before I started knocking heads together. The fact that Thing 3 had only been following me around asking to watch Shaggy (Scooby Doo) did not matter. Neither did it matter that Thing 2 was innocent of all wrongdoing. The full moon fire was lit.

As their mother, I would much rather they get out of the way than get burned, so I ensured their safety and took my  aggression out on the olives for the pizza. I also cried into them. I hate it when I lose it. I hate the example that it sets.

But I had to set the Things straight.

So tonight, my dinner conversation involved explaining to a six year old that he is not a parent to the four year old. I know that those two extra years have provided him a wealth of wisdom and experience that Thing 2’s meager 4 years cannot begin to provide.

While I was at it and had their attention and either their fear or respect (not really sure which), I also made sure to cover a few other things:

1. Scream in my house again tonight, and you might not have vocal chords in the morning.

2. I am in charge. Period. Not your brother, not your common sense. Me. Mommy. Mom. Mama. Daddy has the same authority and Nana holds sway, but only Jesus outranks me.

3. Nobody talks bad about my kids. Including my kids.

Now everyone is in the bed and quiet. The house is peaceful, and I have a moment to feel that feeling I first had when I found out I was pregnant with my first beautiful and amazing child: guilt that I might not do what's right.