Peace Less

Yesterday was not a good day.  It wasn’t the worst day ever, but it certainly ranks in the top 100 really un-good days.

It was supposed to be son #1’s triumphant entry into the work force; starting at his dream job, making money, being gainfully employed, blah, blah, blah.  He woke up on time, got to the bus stop on time, made the bus and missed his stop.  6 minutes late to the job line and he missed his shot at full-time.  Hopefully just for now and not forever.   He was in an angry mood, not talking, negative and just plain not a happy person.  As I didn’t know why he was angry, only that he was home when he wasn’t “supposed” to be; I was anxious and sad for him. 

Son #2 decided that me asking in my nice mommy voice twice for his chores to be completed wasn’t quite forceful enough of an impetus to get him moving so I obliged his desires with a mean-mommy voice shouting lecture.  I hate those.  Seriously, it must seem to my kids that I yell all the time but I honestly do ask nicely once or twice before I lose my grip.  So he was silent, sulky, petulant and angry.

The grandson decided to cry because I was yelling at son #2.  He cries any time I raise my voice above what he considers normal.  As I’m a loud person and I am passionate about my feelings and my children rarely listen the first time, there is sometimes a lot of loud-voiced-speaking (sometimes yelling) in my house. 

The baby I care for (guess she’s a toddler now as she’s one) doesn’t want me out of her sight.  This is cute until she throws a full blown screaming and crying jag when I go downstairs to load and unload the laundry.  Downstairs.  Not outside or in the car or far, far away.  Downstairs.

These moments in my life always make me feel like I’m the one to blame for it all.  We should have planned his bus route together to give him comfort.  I should have physically moved son #2 to get him doing his chores.  I could have carried the baby with me while I did laundry (you haven’t seen the floor of the laundry room.  Son #2’s clothing is all over the floor.  I’m afraid the baby would be lost for good).  The grandson wouldn’t have been crying because I wouldn’t have been raising my voice.  Problem solved.

Well, except for the whole life isn’t peaceful if people aren’t doing what they’re supposed to be doing thing…