February 12. Dibs on Mother of the Year.

This week I had a full on Momzilla moment.

And it wasn’t pretty. It happened so fast and instantly I knew I had a major parent fail.

I dropped the F bomb in front of my kids.

In my house there are a few of those…Fat is one. One is an incredibly derogatory name for someone. And then there is the mother of all bad F words. We don’t use those words In our House. Ever!

Yep. I used the latter. And you’d think it was because I broke something but I hadn’t, unless you mean my childrens hopes and dreams that their Mother was full of Grace.

No. I’m not.

I used it in a moment of absolute…I have HAD it, absolutely NO more, end-of-my-very-frayed-patience-rope.

I yelled…

“New Rule, no more calling fricken Dibs!”

Except I didn’t say Fricken. Oh no. I said it.

And instantly wished I could take back that word. But I said it.

It was out there. In front of my kids.

I’m pretty sure my Mother Mary statue turned her back on me in the backyard.

It wasn’t the first time I’ve totally bombed this whole parenting thing, and it certainly won’t be the last. I wish I could say I’m always patient and kind with my kids…but I’m not.

I love my kids. They are my greatest gifts, but I am so flawed. I’m not always patient, whether it’s because I’m tired or because somedays I feel like I don’t have enough left.

Like that day.

From the minute I picked them up from school it started, they started pecking at each other…

“She’s kicking my seat.”

“He’s chewing with his mouth open.”

“The music is too loud.”

“Stop kicking my seat!”

“The music is too quiet.”

“Stop wearing my socks!”

“Shotgun!”

“I had it first.”

“He won’t share it with me!”

“Quit kicking my seat!!!”

“It’s not fair- you sat there last time.”

“They’re all gone. It was my turn to have the last bowl.”

“But it’s my turn.”

“Get out!”

“I did it last time- you need to do it!”

“It’s Mine!”

“Dibs! dibs!”

“Mom. Mom! MOm!! MOM!!!!!!!!!!”

“I called Dibs!!”

…and then I lost it.

My patience, my kindness, my unconditional love unraveled into a trucker’s mouth because someone called dibs on a dinner plate.

No offense to trucker’s.

I don’t like conflict. I get stressed out about it. It’s why I can’t stand reality TV. I don’t enjoy watching people peck at each other. It’s why I don’t do well with Catty women. And that day all they did was peck at each other.

And before I released Momzilla- I had tried everything. I turned on music they all liked. I asked about their Days. I made what they requested for dinner. I tried to mediate. And they kept fighting…

They kept pecking. And I showed my real.

My Real Ugly.

And of course afterwards, after we ate dinner in mostly silence, and after we all had kind of regrouped from my little tantrum- I apologized. I was very honest about how frustrated I was, but that was no reason to behave that way. Ever. They deserve better.

But we also used that as a time to talk about why the way they were behaving wasn’t ok either. Life isn’t fun living with constant fighting. It’s chaotic and all it does is add stress. We all deserve better.

And then we talked about what causes us to fuss and peck at each other…it’s too much focus on Me and not enough focus on the bigger thing…each other, family, Us.

Maybe if we stopped and talked to the person who is bothering us, and saw they just wanted our attention. Maybe if we gave someone else our turn or shared. Maybe if we stopped focusing on everything everyone else is doing wrong and looked at what they are doing right…one of my kids just wants his brother to want to be around him that he will try for any sort of reaction. Maybe if we just chooses to Love. So we talked about the basics of what our family is. What our mission is…

Familia Es Todo. Family is All.

After dinner we did dishes together…we read together…we spent time together, and we prayed together.

And nobody fought.

Because I may not be full of Grace, but God is…and gave us so much that night.

And while I don’t think my Momzilla f bomb moment was ever warranted (I AM Catholic and have a degree in guilt, and still need to go to confession) I do think it was the beginning of a much needed conversation.

A good fricken’ conversation.

Too Soon?

Well you couldn’t expect a Revolution without a little controversy.

Until then I’ll be reading 1 Corinthians 13 over and over again until I can redeem myself…

Mom is Patient…Mom is Kind….

Ps. Just don’t ever call Dibs at my house.