Mommy's Gone Crazy

Some people think that since I stay home with our kids and we homeschool, that I have all of the time in the world to get myself and the kids ready, schooled, and the house clean, complete with a hot meal on the table for the hubby when he walks in at 5:30 every evening. 

Honestly, that's what my plan is every morning when I wake up and my feet hit the floor. 

However, that isn't how it plays out most days. 

 This truth had never been more real to me until yesterday when I had an unexpected knock on the door at 2:30 on the afternoon.

 You see, I had decided to rearrange everything in my living room that morning during our school hours. Terrible mistake mind you, but I'm impatient and only have a small amount of time on my hands to do luxurious things such as moving furniture and wall hangings, which subsequently means sweeping thousand of crayons and cat toys out from where the couch had been, plus dusting all of the pictures that I had taken down.
 The living room was still in the throws of upheaval and since I knew I was going to be sweaty and dusty, I didn't bother showering that morning. 

Gross, but logical. 

I had just moved the fish tank from the kitchen table (which had newspapers and paint scattered all over it from finishing up a pinewood derby car) to the bookshelf and had sloshed about half of the tank water all over my chest. I don't know how many of you have or have had goldfish, but they are dirty little creatures.
Picture me standing in the middle of the wrecked living room, complete with hammers, crayon piles, and wires everywhere looking back-and-forth  from the messy table to the fish tank to my shirt which now smelled like a green pond on a hot day. 

I just knew then and there that I was over that day and bedtime needed to come in the next thirty minutes for everyone's sake. 

Then I looked at the clock and it was only 2 in the afternoon. 

*sigh*

So I came to grips with myself and trudged into the bedroom to change my shirt. I dug through the laundry baskets full of the clothes I hadn't folded and put away from the day before and found an acceptable ratty shirt to wear for the next couple of hours. I still smelled like fish tank, but I knew I was going to shower soon, so I brushed it off.  As I looked around our bedroom, I quickly remembered that it was Monday, which meant it was a big laundry day, so I found all of the hampers and dumped them in the only clean part of the floor in the living room so I could sort them. 

I like to add more chaos when I can.

I got my huge laundry piles separated and was passing through the kitchen on my way to the laundry room when I spied wadded up, half chewed pieces of bread all over the kitchen floor. Being the attention deficit person that I am, I set down the laundry load to pick up the  bits of bread. I would have put them in the the trash, except it seemed that I am the only one who's trash bag changing skills are exemplary enough to accomplish such a feat, therefore everyone leaves the job to me. It's an honor, really. So I changed and took out the trash. As I went to get under the kitchen sink to get a new trash bag, I realized that the sink was now overflowing with dishes that the stupid past me didn't do the night before, nor that morning. So I unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher and started it, only to realize that there were still dishes left because our dishwasher is half the size of normal ones. 

 I debated  for about one second about washing the rest by hand, but screw that, I didn't exactly feel like it. 

 I was making my way to my bathroom to finally get my shower when, *knock, knock, knock*

 I looked around at my living room which was in shambles before, but now had three new piles of laundry in the floor as well as a puddle from the fish tank. Then I panned to the kitchen which still had dirty dishes, an empty trash can sitting in the middle of it, and the laundry basket brimming with clothes sitting on the sticky counter.

And finally, I looked at myself, wearing pink fuzzy pajama pants, an I'll fitting, ratty shirt, and my hair was half up, half down because I had gotten in caught on a nail in the wall as I was bending over. 

Plus I smelled like fish water still. 

This next part happened in slow mode in my eyes. 

I saw Sawyer start to open his mouth. I knew what was going to happen next. He was going to yell across the room that someone was at the door, as if I wasn't already aware.

I leaped as gracefully and as quietly as I could to the kitchen table to cover his mouth before he made a sound. 

It had to have been thrilling to be a fly on the wall at this moment.   It was as if I swooped in like an eagle to hush him and usher him into the bedroom to get out of view of the front window. 

It was there, hunkered down in the floor of our dark bedroom, trying to stay quiet, that I realized I had hit a new low.
Sawyer looked up and said with fear in his eyes, "Are we in danger?" 

At this point, the lady (who I didn't know) had left and I assured Sawyer that we were safe and explained why mommy went psycho. 

I eventually got everything sorted and cleaned (including myself) by the time Josh got home. I would have told him about my day, but I don't know if he could empathize as well as my friends, so I just didn't bother, and now I'm telling y'all in the hopes that you can.

The moral of the story here is: Always call me an hour before you come over, if you do show up unannounced, be prepared for this kind of scenario when you get here, and always tackle big projects on the weekend. 

Happy, Tuesday, friends! May it be better than your Monday!

Control Fast: Day 5

Yep, I've decided that maybe this should be a daily or almost daily insight to my struggle. You'll see why in a second.

 I was feeling on top of it all today. I had posted a fairly successful post about how great the first week was going, so naturally, I jinxed myself. 

I'm awesome like that.

I've conquered homeschool micromanaging for the most part by now. I still have twinges (literally, eye twinges) from stifling the need to huffily say, "Why are you doing so-and-so this way? It would be so much easier if you just did it this way!" I compare it to quitting smoking cold turkey. Things are running smoothly, then suddenly a trigger will happen causing me to crave control.

Other than those few twinges, I had this in the bag...

That is, until we went to the park.

I've always been over controlling, verging on psychotic when it comes to my kids in public. You know how kids can be perfect angels at home and then exert all of that pent up naughtiness the second fresh air and sunshine touch those sweet, misleading, angelic faces?
Yeah, my kids are sooo guilty. So I swoop in to correct them, and to be honest, it's mostly to teach them a lesson so they grow into productive adults, but it's also partly so other adults know that I'm aware of the problem. Then maybe they can quit being judgey-McJudgersons and quit with the glares. 

Yeah, I micro manage my kids in public to save face. 
I'm such a good mom.

 I was well aware of this problem in the first place, but nothing shouts "HEY! You really, really suck at letting kids be kids, lady" than taking your kids to a place where danger, dirt, and other kids (and their parents) are abundant. I literally had to bite my tongue oh, about 100 times. 
"Be mindful of the smaller kids. Don't swing that high. Don't throw rocks. Don't slide head first. Don't touch the duck poop. Stay away from the water. Quit whining. Yes, we have to go for a walk. Don't get too far ahead. Stop dragging behind. We have to hold hands crossing the street." And it went on and on.

Granted, some of these things were for safety's sake, but really, if they had gotten dirty or bruised, it wouldn't have been the end-all-be-all.

I stopped myself mid sentence numerous times. Really, the kids had a great time, but for me, it was two hours of anxiety. 

When we got home (my controlled environment) I was so frazzled that I let the kids go do whatever kids do in their rooms, put in my ear buds, blared my 90's alternative station on Pandora, closed my eyes, and rocked back-and-forth on the couch for 30 minutes. (Okay, more like 10 minutes.)
If I can't see or hear it, it's not happening, therefore I can't correct it, right?

 I realized then that that was why our normal homeschool days were going so swimmingly.
I had just blocked out what was happening. I hadn't truly had to confront my issues head on without some kind of safety distraction.

 After I had calmed down some, I decided to start in on making dinner. Suddenly, I was overcome with the urge to completely pull everything out of the drawers, cabinets, and fridge to deep clean, purge, and redecorate the entire kitchen. 
Cause that's normal, right?
Yeah, no, it's not. 
At all.

 Then of course I had to figure out why I wanted to change everything suddenly. 

 Yeah, you guessed it. Since I couldn't control people or situations any longer, I was trying to control the daggum decor!
Now that I think about it, every time I've done something drastic to the house, it's been during a time when I felt things were out of my control. 

Hmm...

 When Josh got home I shared with him about my kitchen project. 
"So, I want to do blah-de-blah  to the kitchen. Is this something that you really want to be a part of? Cause, you know, control fast and all, so I have to ask. But if you aren't involved and you don't care, it's not controlling, right?''

He just shot me a look, so I dropped the subject.

So, I threw away a few things that I'm sure he won't miss (a burnt down candle and fake flowers) and moved a couple of things (more fake flowers) to a different room. 
I felt better. At this point I'll take what I can get. 

*sigh*

 Alas, tomorrow is another day. So I guess we'll see what it'll bring for me and then eventually for you to read. Wish me luck, friends!

Until next time,
Heather

Control Fast: End of Week One

 "I'm going on a month long fast."
Josh's eyes widened with concern, then squinted with curiosity. "What?"
"Oh, not food. You know I like food too much. I mean a control fast."
"Okay. Explain maybe?"
"I was reading that book about control that...ahem... you so subtly suggested, and the writer went on a control fast...
During the holidays...
For one week...
I figure that one week during the holidays equates to a month during normal times."

 The book I'm talking about is Let. It. Go.: How to Stop Running the Show and Start Walking in Faith.

 

You can find it here.

  How this whole thing came about was from me telling Josh about my resolution to read a book every month. I "suggested" that he should do the same because, well, I honestly don't know why. It's possible it was because I'm a control freak.

  There, I said it. You see, before this book, I didn't think I was controlling. Like, at all. I thought I was fine because I do keep a lot of my opinions to myself. However, I guess I have so many opinions about how things should be done, that they spill out anyways.

Anyways, that crafty man of mine was searching for books when *gasp* he "randomly" came across a book on sale about control. 

It's possible I'm being paranoid, but it's more fun to think I married some crafty genius who is great at masterminding ways to get people to help themselves. 

So, I bought the book and I finished it in a few days.

I officially started my fast on Monday. 

Lord, help me. 

I had no idea how many decisions I made in one day: What was for breakfast, when it was time to start school, which direction the kids should brush their teeth in, how hair would be styled, what outfits the kids would wear, what Josh's lunch would be, which school subject would be done first, how Sawyer should hold his pencil, how he should erase his mistakes, whether or not he really needed that second bathroom break, what we would eat for snack...

Those decisions were all made by 8:30 in the morning, and they didn't even include decisions I had to make for myself. 

No wonder I'm exhausted all of the time.

Now, before you go and chastise me to a bloody pulp, after lots of reflecting this week, I think I've figured out why I control like I do.

I honestly didn't feel like I was doing a bad thing initially. I was being a good mom by making sure my kids looked nice, were hygenic, and had an organized education. I also felt like I was a loving wife who worried about the small things so her husband didn't have to.

But, oh, how my views have changed. By taking these decisions away, my kids will never learn self accountability, or time management. My husband will never get to have his own identity in his own home.

  As I looked around the house and as I thought hard about our schedule, I realized that everyone was having to live in the strict world of Heather. All the decor, furniture arrangement, food in the fridge, clothing in the closet were dictated by me. I couldn't find a single thing that Josh had picked out besides the gun rack that hangs in our bedroom. Note, our bedroom that no one ever goes into.

I thought about this last weekend. Josh and I had a major fight about money. Mainly about how I micromanage it and how he feels like I treat him like a child. He even complained to his friends about it.

Ouch. That hurt, but I completely saw that he was * gulp* right.

  So Monday was a new day. Sawyer decided which order we would do our school in and I resolved to not nag him about how long it would take him to finish.
Often I caught me hushing myself mid sentence when I had something that needed input. 

Or that I thought needed input.

It was a very long day, but in the end, Sawyer felt accomplished and all the work got done.

One of the things that stood out to me the most in the book was when the author shared her friend's mantra: "2+2=4, 1+3=4, 5-1=4, etc..."

Basically, there are many different ways to get the same result.

Wow.

I kept that in mind all week and it helped me take a time out when my control addiction reared it's ugly head.

So, here we are at the end of week one. I've obviously shared the struggles, but I've also noticed some perks. Though they may be few, they are profound.

1. I'm learning about who my family members are as individuals. By me not making the decisions, others are forced to. Therefore, I get to learn about the things that they like.

2. Josh now has to take control. For years now, I've begged Josh to  take the lead. But, when you have a micromanaging wife, why would you? What would be the point? If you made a decision, she would come along and argue about why it wasn't the best decision or she would change the decision after you were gone. Now he makes a decision and it sticks.

3. My family members now have more confidence in themselves. I've seen all of them perk up and step up. They walk differently, proudly. I think it's because they finally feel respected. 

4. I laugh again. We're talking whole-hearted,  belly laughs. You see, I'm able to relax now. I have no control over anything. I make no decisions about anything (when Josh is around) especially money. I have nothing to do with decisions about money, which is a huge load off. I didn't realize how it was weighing on me. Even though we have money, deciding how to distribute it, or feeling the guilt of a bad purchase was overwhelming. Without this anxiety filling me up, I feel lighter and I'm able to see fun in the world again.

I feel like this fast has been fun so far, but I'm afraid harder roads may be ahead, because it can't possibly be this easy. I guess we'll see. 

We'll speak again next Friday, friends! 

Until next time, 
-Heather