Mommy Momster

I have been feeling rather lousy of late.  Not entirely super lousy, just rather lousy.  So, no, not the pitch dark bottom.

It always happens when I raise my voice at the children too much, continually in a series of days.  I think I have subconsciously set a daily quota of how much is too much and how much is just enough when it comes to raising my voice at them.  The more I don't meet the quota, the happier I am.  But not meeting the quota also doesn't mean that I am a weakling in disciplining them, but using other means and ways to get them to listen to me.  Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't.  

Good days, bad days.  

When it doesn't work, there is a chance that I achieve my shout quota.  I must say I am so often an overachiever of  my set quota, and I dislike this so much.  Because when I overachieve, like a salesperson who hit more than his sales target, he would get a higher tier of commission or bonus of some form.  Just for me, I get my bonus in the packages of guilt, self-reproach and helplessness.

And that sucks. 

I would then question myself what I had done wrong, why I had to shout, why I couldn't keep a tight control of my volume.  Because I am loud.  I am very, very loud.  I admit I go overboard sometimes.  I know when my brain tells me, "hey, it is enough, stop it now" but the anger in me continues to fuel the blast.

It is when the storm is over do I see what damages it has caused.  My emotional damages.  The pain in my heart throbs like a bad migraine, eats up whatever energy I would have.  Sometimes the damages can be so bad that I feel so beaten even the next day, and if not for the daily routine I am married into, I would really just prefer to lay in bed, engage in self-pity and cry my eyes swollen.

Sigh.... but life goes on.  I perform my mother duties and housewife's chores like a zombie in the morning, because the wounds are still so fresh and raw.  I almost always already feel better as the hours pass.  Most probably due to the time I have alone, the peace in the house, the housework to distract me... the essential re-charging properties of getting in touch with my soul again before the children return from school.  

By mid-afternoon, I would be close to full recovery, ready to receive my boys again.  (Wow, I am almost a vampire - wounds are self-healing and leaves no scars.  Or am I reading too much vampire tales?)

Door bell rings.

The cycle begins yet once again.  But I hope it's a good day today.