A Marathon Tantrum

In April, I ran a marathon.  That's right. 26.2 never ending, oh crap, will this ever be done (?!?!!), miles.  Needless to say, it was a loooooong race.  But I persevered and finished the darn thing.  I had many ups and downs along the way. One minute, I was feeling the runners rush. I felt good and was cranking out the miles.  Then I was absolutely hating running.  I mean HATING it.  What was I thinking?  Had I completely lost my mind?  Then, after a few Ibuprofen and a banana, I was loving it again.  But with 2.8 miles to go, the love never returned. I seriously hated the stupid marathon.

What does this have to do with motherhood?  I mean, there are the obvious parallels.  I love being a mother, I hate being a mother. I love being a mother, I hate being a mother. Coincidentally, I do see a shocking correlation between the love of motherhood and bedtime. But I digress.

Two days before my marathon, I took my three little ones to the big box store.

Oh wait, in case you didn't know, I am the mother of five children.  Three pregnancies...five children.  That's right, I have two sets of twins.  Four boys and one girl.  It goes twins, single, twins. My youngest is a girl.

Anyways, lets get back to the big box store.

I had an hour to kill while my oldest boys were taking their violin lessons.  I had to get some essential items for a class I was teaching that day.  It was just a quick trip, but since I had some time to kill I thought we could go and browse and get a few things.

Big mistake!

After letting number 3, Eli, pick out a rather expensive coloring book (hey, it is "educational"), I went to the electronics section to check on an item I would need in the near future.  While I was checking my item, Eli was admiring the Skylanders figures. These figures are the bane of my existence.  Grrrrr!!!

Surprisingly enough, he wanted me to buy one.

NO!

The low whine slowly percolated into a medium grumble and then it was a full-blown scream fest.  EPIC tantrum.  EPIC.

And so it begins...

Abandon ship! Abandon ship!

He lost the coloring book and then quickly lost his sanity.

But I still had to get some items for my class. I quickly swung around to the needed items.  Eli's  ear-piercing scream was constant. Numbers 4 and 5, Harry and Julia, were feeling left out and would more than occasionally join in as back-up screamers.

I think people offered to help me. I am not sure because I really could not hear a darn thing.  The checkout lady started to ask how I wanted my stuff bagged up, I think, but when she saw the palms of my hands plastered to my eyeballs, she reconsidered her considerateness.

Just get me out of here, please!

Then it was on to the car. The screaming was relentless.  I buckled them all in, but as I was driving, Eli unbuckled his seat belt and was climbing over the middle seat.  This happened several times. Luckily, I had some duck tape handy. Yes, I duck taped that kid into his seat belt.

Let me take a minute to tell everyone that spanking does not work.

After only 45 minutes of pure, unadulterated, high-pitched screaming, he finally ran out of steam.

A very rare fight between Harry and Julia. This unusual sighting of sibling  scuffle was fortuitously captured about one year ago at a family reunion.  Shocking, very shocking.

It might have been one of the worst days of my life.  Since the hubster had to work late that night, Harry picked up where Eli left off and did about the same amount of screaming before I put him and all the rest of the riff raff to bed.

Two days later I was pounding the pavement. 26.2 miles.  What was harder?  Four and half hours of running or 1 and a half hours of crying?

I signed up for another marathon in the fall.

What Sets Me Off

Some things never change. Today, I had a bit of temper tantrum.  Me...not my kids.  I was being such a good mom. I was actually cleaning things up before things spiraled out of control.  Eli's room was looking especially sorry, so I made his bed, picked up the dirty clothes, and spent at least 20 minutes putting the books back on his bookshelf. I organized them and made the room look quite nice.


Then Eli got in trouble. I don't even remember why.  Naturally, I banished him to his room. I tried to be loving and understanding of his feelings, but when I saw the other side of the bed, I lost it. Every bookshelf was empty, except the top one. He just couldn't reach that one. I gave him one good spank on the bottom and left. 


Then I started jumping up and down, screaming, because I was so frustrated. I can get no traction in this house!  I was screaming, hopping mad.


I sat down and fumed. Eli came out defiantly, stark naked. I just rolled my eyes. Whatever. Be naked. See if I care.


I was stewing over this whole episode in the back of my head and I came to a realization. I remember being about 5 or 6 years old, when we lived in a trailer in Provo, Utah.  My mom was sleeping and we were supposed to do the dishes and not wake her up, above all else.  Well, after I had washed almost every stinkin' dish in the house, my little sister Heather wanted a drink.  I was like, NO WAY!  You are not getting a cup dirty. This was too much work. She started crying, I got mad. We had a spat. Then, guess what? My mom woke up. She shooed us out of the trailer, and I sulked around waiting with terror for my dad to come home. Sure enough, he drove by and then a few minutes later he came marching fiercely toward me.


Yep, I got in big trouble.  


I can see the similarities here. I had got it just the way I wanted it and then someone comes along and wrecks it. I guess it is a test I haven't passed yet. It is kind of on the same lines as not ever taking a u-turn. I hate taking u-turns. It stresses me out. U-turns and re-cleaning things just cleaned...now you know what will set me off.