Anger is a girl's best friend...at least in our house

I've heard tales of children who are quiet, respectful, peaceful little beings. They get angry, of course; they misbehave. They are not robots. But for the most part, they express their unhappiness in a reasonable way - a stomp or two, a little pout, some eye-rolling. Perhaps some tears, a few minutes of whining. They get their point across, and then they move on. I've read of such children, been told of such children...have even witnessed such children in the families of relatives and friends. Yet I still don't truly believe, in my heart, that such children actually exist. It is simply too far outside my own experience for me to truly accept.

You see, my children are not like this. My children growl.

I am not using that as a euphemism. They literally growl like an animal, deep in the back of their throats, when they are really angry. And not just once in awhile. They do this on a regular basis. They shriek, scream and wail. They ball up their fists and physically shake from the effort it takes to contain all their anger. They fume. They seethe. They RAGE...rage in a way that would have warmed Dylan Thomas's heart. (Yes, I know, Thomas was encouraging rage against Death, not whether or not one's jeans itch. But still.) They have big feelings and big opinions, and they express them. Loudly. They laugh hard, play hard, love hard, and rage hard. They don't act like this all the time, of course. If that were the case, I would be writing this from a lovely treatment center somewhere in the mountains instead of my home computer. But their inclination towards the dramatic is a part of their personalities, and subsequently, all the intense emotions bubbling just under the surface erupt rather frequently.

At a recent dinner party, I was seated next to a group of parents I did not know. One of the mothers shared that she has twin eight-year-old girls. The woman next to me remarked how high-strung and emotional her own daughter is, and then expressed her sympathies at having that doubled. The mother-of-twins remarked emphatically that she simply does not put up with that behavior in her house. At all. (It took all my self-control to keep from wailing, "But how? But HOOOOWWWWWW?" and throwing myself at this woman's feet.) She explained that she "does not buy into that." She does not believe "that is just how girls are", or that some kids' personalities are just naturally big and emotional. She "stamped that out" early by putting both girls in karate. (Not sure why, exactly. Maybe to channel their anger? Or because she's a huge fan of The Karate Kid? She didn't really clarify her reasons.) Now "they know" not to ever bring that kind of behavior into her house. (She looked right at me when she said all of this, and I swear to god the unspoken word at the end of every sentence was "dumbass." Although, admittedly, I might be projecting just the teensiest bit.)

After breathing through my mouth for about thirty seconds until the urge to punch the self-satisfied mom square in her know-it-all nose had passed (seriously, I have NO IDEA where my kids get their anger issues), I quickly changed the subject. But that conversation has stuck with me, because it really hit me where I'm most vulnerable. Our house is not a free-for-all. I believe in discipline. My children have boundaries, they have rules and expectations regarding their behavior, and they are given consequences if they break those rules. Yet in my heart of hearts, on my bad bad bad dark-mommy days, I fear that somehow, despite all contrary intentions, I've created little monsters. Because no matter how much I try to guide their behavior, ultimately I see so much of myself in these two little beings, and IT SCARES THE CRAP OUT OF ME.

I feel the need to qualify here that my kids are awesome. Yes, they are sometimes awesome pains-in-the-ass, but they are awesome nonetheless. I'm not saying that because I think I should; it's true. They are funny, dynamic girls who keep me constantly entertained with their expressive personalities. But those personalities are BIG, and they can be confounding and alarming and utterly exhausting.

I don't know what the answer is to any of this really. (Check the blog title, folks. Yes, I tend to ramble.) I mean, if I'm being completely honest with myself, stripped of all self-pity, I think my husband and I are both pretty decent parents. And while I'm always looking for new discipline strategies, I also believe that, ultimately, my girls are who they are. That doesn't give them a free pass to be total brats, but at the same time, I want them to be true to themselves. It's a delicate tightrope walk, trying to balance encouraging them to embrace who they are while also teaching them that it is actually possible to be disappointed about something without screaming high enough to pierce a dog's eardrum. I fall off the tightrope every single damn day, but eventually, I'm gonna get the balance just right...probably just in time to talk my girls off the ledge as they navigate these same tricky waters with their own children. (Karma? YOU BETTER NOT LET ME DOWN.)

And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go look up local karate schools. I'm really hoping they offer Mommy And Me classes.

Constance Rae Mathews

My heart is so heavy as I type this. My beautiful "bonus" mother-in-law - Chris's stepmother Connie - passed away last night.  

This is my very favorite picture of her.

It was taken on our wedding day, and it captures perfectly Connie's incredible zest for life. She had the most infectious laugh, and it was impossible to keep from smiling whenever she let it rip. She welcomed me with open arms from the moment we met over 16 years ago, and she treated me like nothing less than a daughter from that point forward. I was always so grateful for her easy acceptance and love. But more importantly, I genuinely liked her. She was just so damn much fun to be around. She exuded light, and was happy to share that joie de vivre with strangers and loved ones alike. Her open warmth was contagious. She had a gift for making those near her feel better, simply by virtue of being in her proximity. She was a proud wife, sister, mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother whose love for family was pure and fierce and loyal and true. She was my father-in-law's treasured partner, my daughters' beloved Gigi, my husband's second mom...and my dear, dear friend.

Godspeed, Con. We love you. Always.

Open House!

It was Emma's open house at her school this evening, and unfortunately, I had to fly solo for the event. Chris is out-of-town dealing with a family emergency and wasn't able to attend. I know he wishes he could have been here with us tonight, so this post is mostly for him. (Miss you, baby.)

Emma was so excited to show Sophie and me absolutely everything about her new school. She insisted we not only visit her classroom but also the book fair, lunch room, library, art room, music room and both gyms. I met every single one of her teachers, which was something I was never able to do at her previous school. (I even met the wonderful teacher who helped without judgment at the drop-off door the other day and was able to thank him properly for his kindness.) Everyone kept giving me the same feedback, but her gym teacher said it best: "Emma is adjusting really well. She already seems to have a lot of friends. You would think she's been going here for years!"

Music to my ears.

There she is - our third grader!

With her teacher Mrs. Regocki

Showing off her first desk! (They studied at tables at her old school, so this new sitting option is a big deal to Em.)

The girls getting goofy on the playground.