I Don't Want To Be Betty

Monday I was so tired. Saturday night was an up-all-night kind of night with Nora having a stomach ache. I find that after a sleepless night I'm usually okay the next day, running on adrenaline, but two days later I collapse. So Monday was a hard day. My mentor and I had a collaborator in town for a two-day work session as we outlined a book (I am writing two books this year with collaborators). So I was at the office by 9, then we worked until 4, then I read a dissertation from 4 to 6, then we took our collaborator out to dinner. Got home by 9 p.m., and then finished reading the dissertation by 10:30 and I was done for the day.

So at that point, it'd be logical to go to sleep. All through dinner I was struggling, and my mentor kept saying "you look tired" and "you must be exhausted". But I think once you get to a certain stage of tired, you just can't shut down, or at least I can't, so I was awake until about 2:30 a.m.

What is wrong with me?!?

Slept until 4:20 a.m. at which point Milo woke up. Back to sleep at 5, kids were up for good at 6:30. So, today was another long, tired day.

Back home this evening, I was cooking dinner when the kids arrived home with Buddy. They'd been swimming in the lake. They were either over tired or over hungry, because they were cranky. Nora kept whining for me to hold her. Milo kept making this frustrated noise that grates on my nerves like you wouldn't believe. It goes something like this: Huuuuaaaaaahhhhhh! At dinner, both kids were whiny and petulant and uncooperative. I had made linguini with tomatoes, basil, and fresh mozzarella, all things that they like. They had chicken, and bread. Nora spent the entire dinner whining and then crying and then pitching a fit because I wouldn't give her jelly or peanut butter on her bread. (My policy is no short-order cooking, so what's on the plate is what they get, period. There is always at least one thing, usually more, on their plates that they like and are guaranteed to eat. They can have as many servings as they desire, but I won't make new things just because they don't feel like eating what's there.)

Milo kept trying to put his feet on the table. Nora kept trying to pitch a fit and she refused to eat. And you know what, I was pissed. I was cranky myself. So tired, and not in the mood to deal with it. To be honest, I really wanted to yell. I really wanted to yell at them.

But I didn't, because I don't want to be like Betty Draper. So I distracted them and devised a silly game with them and made them forget their bad moods, and then they started to eat without realizing they were eating, and then they cheered up, and we got through dinner without any disasters. (And I did not give in on the short order cooking thing).

Other nights I will probably mess up and lose control of myself and yell at the kids. I'm a very verbal person and yelling is how I express my anger, especially when I'm sleep deprived. I'll inevitably lose it, I'm sure, and then feel guilty about it. Like a terrible mom, which is sometimes how I feel. Like, I keep thinking I should be better at this. It should be easier for me. It should be more natural. The way it seems to be for other people. But at least sometimes I'm able to do the right thing, and can keep it under control even though I've reached the end of my rope. And tonight I'm proud of that.

Bonus picture: Milo insisting on using the vacuum. A decade from now when I'm trying to get him to do his chores I'll remind him that he used to demand to use my vacuum!