The kids have DESTROYED me with their tantrums today. It’s like the tag team of doom; as soon as one kicks off, the other feels compelled to scream even louder. I tried shutting myself in the bathroom but the little buggers knew the lock was busted and barged in anyway. Next thing I know we’re all sat on the toilet crying our eyes out.
It doesn’t help that we’re in chaos. The cottage renovations are well underway in both the lounge and kitchen so there’s no escaping the dust. The kids are unsettled and it’s manifesting itself in some pretty bad behaviour. There’s a huge bag of plaster where their toy chest used to be, crap everywhere and I keep screeching at them not the touch the wet cement on the walls.
I remember reading some article last year about how crying in front of your kids can cause psychological damage. If so then my kids are screwed! They’ve been dealing with the fallout of my PND, chronic illness and, on occasion, SAHM-phobia since the day they were born.
The worst thing is I know it scares them shitless to see me cry. Even so, there’s a teeny tiny part of me that hopes it might be a good thing too. I’m normalizing displays of emotions. We’re only human. My tears are saying that it’s ok to be sad, especially when a couple of little rat-bags have driven you up the wall, through the ceiling and over next door’s fence…
In the end, I pulled myself together, gave them both a big hug, reassured them that mummy was fine and that we all needed to cry sometimes, but can you PLEASE stop stealing all your sister’s toys, and then we stuffed our faces with lemon drizzle cake.
Three weeks to go with the renovations. I think I’m going to have to do some serious baking to get us through this one…
Wish me luck!