HOW TO KEEP YOUR TEMPER WHEN EVERYONE AROUND YOU IS MELTING DOWN

Or "The Post I Will Never Write"!

I don't have the answer.

Motherhood by its very nature forces you to learn SOME patience. At the very least you surrender your own will to whatever is needed at the time, because usually having some sort of order is more valuable than anthing else that you desire in the moment!

My kind of patience is: I want to eat chocolate NOW, but I don't because doing so would invite too many questions. Best to have chocolate in six hours time when no one will ask you where you got it from and then argue with you that this chocolate was from Aldi, not Woolies. Actually I'm just quietly grateful that they don't understand weight, or volume yet, and they don't understand that the piece of chocolate that was theirs and they only got two bites of has mostly been eaten by Mummy.

I am no martyr. When I want a cup of coffee I make the coffee, sit down, put my feet up and then repeat about seven hundred times "No, Mummy is not getting up to get your puzzle/stethoscope/ukulele from the cupboard (where she's hidden it) Mummy is sitting here until this cup is empty. GO and play with the blocks that are ALL OVER MY BLOODY FLOOR. Oh? You don't want to play with them? Well then pack them up... Yes, I thought you probably might like to play with them instead..."

I'm a firm believer in boring your children senseless for at least part of every day. How else are they (and you) ever going to get through all the appointments, and waiting for appointments, and waiting in general that is part of life? The majority of times they find some way to entertain themselves, though sometimes life-endangering, at least we'll all have some good stories!

My kind of patience is: "Hmm, you're right, putting on shoes is quite difficult, especially when you first have to find the shoes, and then remember how to get them on your feet, even though they're thongs and you did it ten times on your own before breakfast while I was very sweetly asking you to take them off again and put them back in the cupboard where they go so you'd be able to find them when it came time to PUT YOUR BLOODY SHOES ON NOW SO I CAN DEMONSTRATE WHAT A GOOD MOTHER I AM BY TAKING YOU TO THE LIBRARY TO INCREASE YOUR LOVE OF LITERATURE!!!!! SO HELP ME GOD IF YOU START DAMAGING THE BOOKS AGAIN I WILL WRING YOUR BLOODY NECK!!!!!!!'

I haven't got the patience part down. I'm not sure it's in me to look at my own flesh and blood and give them the benefit of the doubt when I'm almost certain they're messing with my head on purpose... But I like to think I'm pretty good at organising things to try and avoid a situation where I would lose my patience. When things begin to feel chaotic I have developed the skillset to simplify things to restore order. Toys everywhere and kids who suddenly come down with chiropractic conditions when asked to pack up? Tomorrow there will be half as many toys. A meltdown over peanut butter or vegemite toast? Tomorrow it will be cheese on toast, no options. (The next day it will be no toast because GOOD GRIEF, THE MESS!!!) I don't have the necessary compassion to cuddle a child who is sad because I cut the sandwich into squares instead of triangles, I cannot possibly fathom that grief. But I can serve you something else for lunch for three days until you FORGET ABOUT THE FREAKING TRIANGLES!!*

And this might be just as important, if not more so, than compassion for our children. Yes, it is infinitely important that your child learns to make good choices (INFINITELY) but entering into a discussion with a three year old about which shirt he wants to wear is only ever going to be a power struggle. If I think I am being kind by giving my child choices, and every choice results in a blank stare or a meltdown, I need to reassess and meet him on his level. Give him no choices, or show no interest in the outcome. My child is largely unaware of many choices because letting him choose what to wear every morning would mean we would never leave the house. He doesn't know, and he doesn't actually care. Once the shirt is on his back he's over it, he's busy trying to build a tower or assert dominance over his brother...

Simplify. That's usually where my sanity lies.



*Preschoolers do not forget. EVER. They might neglect to mention it occasionally, but they remember.