Maeve is an astute observer of Mommy phenomena.
I was having a problem with my lemonade pitcher. See, I have to shake it before I serve it, or all the pulpy bits end up on the bottom, and the lemonade I pour is all week and sad. But my pitcher leaks when I shake it, even when I just gently rotate it, when it's full. So, as it leaked on me at that particular moment, I shouted Auuugh and started loudly complaining about how annoyed I was with the pitcher in question.
Maeve, sitting at her place at the table, looked at me and observed: Mommy's getting all crazy again.
Dang. I guess I probably do come off a little crazy when I'm yelling at a pitcher.
It's never easy for me to deal with being angry with Maeve around; in fact, it's hardest when I'm angry at myself. Maeve has ways of distracting me from being angry at her, I think it's one of her best survival mechanisms; also, I usually try to slow myself down and explain to her why I'm frustrated with her. But when I'm mad at myself, all bets are off, because what do you do with that kind of anger? I'm what makes me the maddest, and I have absolutely no place to blow it off.
But having my daughter point out that I'm gettin' all crazy was a very effective tool yesterday. It's hard to be angry and laugh at yourself at the same time. Maybe I just need to imagine her saying that to me every time I get enraged with myself. It could definitely work.
|I'm staying in here till Mommy is done being crazy.|