Hulk-Mom ANGRY!

October of 2013 may go down in my parenting story as one of the worst months of all time since the history of forever. Cavemoms didn’t have it this bad. Oh, you lost a hand to a sabertooth? Child’s play compared to my month, lady! Why don’t you go cry about it into your cave urinal.

There have been false abduction claims, severed squirrel tails, playing in feces infested sand boxes, a prolonged case of assholeitis and so much more. If bad parenting were an art form, well, call me Picasso.

The hits keep on coming and so, this Friday, not to let a full week go by without something truly despicable happening, we had what my kids have been referring to as, “That time mom turned green, her pants exploded into ill-fitting short-shorts and then she drove us really slowly past an orphanage and a prison.”

It was my finest 15 minutes. If you want time to stand still, completely lose your shit. It’s amazing how quickly your children will freeze into a combination of an Olympic level game of freeze-tag and, “I heard that if you are really quiet and still, wild animals don’t attack.”

It was 5:00 p.m. on Friday. Everyone was in the middle of “the bitching hours”, the insanity of 4:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m. that curses every household everywhere. I was picking up eldest from her drama class because I needed to pay people to help her be more dramatic. During the chaos of pick-up and extended (see: dramatic) goodbyes to classmates she would see in 4 minutes in the parking lot, my son took off around the corner. No big deal, it’s not that large of a building. We would meet him in the lobby.

Except, he wasn’t in the lobby. Ruh-roh. And, he wasn’t in the office. And, he wasn’t in the theatre. And, he wasn’t anywhere.

After two minutes of calm, organized search, I became frantic. I ran outside. Not in the parking lot. I ran back inside. He still had not magically appeared. I then did the universal “I can’t find my kid!” call: The shrieking of his full name at a decibel that makes glass break and small children leave their hiding spaces. Still, no son.

At this point, a woman walked up asking if I was looking for a little boy. A hilarious inquiry considering I was the only person running through the building screeching like a hawk. “Your son is hiding under the bench in front of the youth theatre.”

“Oh, is he now? Thank you.”

Screaming mom was gone. Silent rage mom was now in the building. As I stomped toward the front door, he saw me coming and took those small, wooden blocks meant to hold doors open and tried to shove them under the door to keep me from coming out.

Oh no he didn’t.

At this point, not even Chuck Norris could have kept me from getting out of that door. I threw my whole body against the door and it flung open. Think, old saloon doors swinging open to announce a gunslinger.

He ran.

I didn’t blame him for running. I can only imagine my face.

Silent rage mom was gone. Mom-full-on-lost-her-shit mom was now in the building. The low, exorcist sounding voice that came out of my body surprised even me. “GET OVER HERE NOW!” and, he stopped. Wait, he stopped? I should become possessed more often.

“GET IN THE CAR NOW!” and all four of them filed in the car like the damn Von Trapp family in matching lederhosen.

I drove home in a fever daze yelling a string of words so long and intense it sounded like another language. The kids sat in stunned silence. The passengers in the other cars stared, clearly enjoying my rage inspired interpretative car dance. Visceral pain visible on my face while my arms flailed like a muppet.

I pulled in the driveway. I sat there for a few minutes. I needed to catch my breath and allow the cleansing of the poltergeist from my body.

“Mama, I’m sorry.”

“What did you say?”

“I’m sorry I was so naughty. I won’t ever do that again.”

After all of this time, all I had to do was completely lose my mind.

I put my head on the steering wheel. I felt terrible. I should apologize. Wait, I should do no such thing. I was going to take this moment. This horrible moment produced an authentic apology. Maybe my kids just needed a full on freak out to answer their question: Who’s the boss?

Guess what, it’s not Tony Danza.

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Comments

  1. Oh man, I would NOT want to have been your kid that night. I would want to be your sister in law enjoying a glass of vodka with you, though :)

  2. You OWN that Hulk moment. It was well-deserved, and it worked. Is this the same kid who made you look like a kidnapper? If so, I think you should send me all his Halloween candy.

  3. How old are your kids again? I could have sworn they were pretty young, but I didn’t succeed in making my mom lose her shit so thoroughly until my brothers and I were teens. Give your kids a high five for me!

  4. Bethany Mitchell says:

    Oh man, I’ve been there done that hun…. sometimes we all hit “hulk” mom mode… bet the next time he comes up with an evil plan like that he’ll think twice;)

  5. Andrea Miller says:

    Bigh hugs! I’ve been there too and thankfully not too many times but still been there…… don’t apologize, let them fear! They know they are loved but they need fear too, you experienced fear when you couldn’t find him, he needs to realize that too! You were scared until you discovered he was hiding….. OH my! The putting the blocks under the door to keep you out, yikes, that would have had me turn hulk too! And for this I am grateful for the small town that I live in and the reason when I have to go into a business, I take the keys and lock them in! Bring on the vodka you so deserve it!

  6. This is so fantastic. Own it!! You da boss!! Hive five sister!

  7. Sometimes it truly takes a “Shit hits the fan” moment to let your kiddos know mama means BUSINESS. I’m proud of you. i know it was shocking for you, and them, but sometimes you just gotta go with it. ;)

  8. I have to remember not to read these things during my lunch break at work while sitting at my desk having a spinach salad because I just snorted and spit and cried with this blog. OMG! This was too much! You take every moment of that time and call it your own – yes, our kids do need to see us lose it once in a while to remind them who is in charge. It’s funny because my kids are 25 and 19 and when my 3 grandsons (7, 3, & 1) were acting up the other day, I yelled and MY kids froze like Olympic champions! I had a hard time telling the little ones to calm down when the big ones were scared, lol!

  9. Been. There. Babe, it happens. And weee, discipline! Bonus!!!

  10. Unfortunately I’ve been there before. I try not beat myself up too much about it since I think it’s good for your kids to have a healthy dose of fear towards their parents.

  11. Emotional roller coaster post.
    I was laughing at “It was 5:00 p.m. on Friday. Everyone was in the middle of “the bitching hours”, the insanity of 4:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m. that curses every household everywhere.” then goosebumps at “Still, no son.”.

    I dread losing my kids out of sight. My son did something similar when he was about 2. While we were at the department store, he hid inside the clothes on a rack. I lost my mind for about 5 minutes, until I saw his arms and feet sticking out from the row of clothing, from a mirror behind him. He didn’t respond to me calling out his name. I would have gone Amber Alert if it wasn’t for that mirror. He was still too young to understand what he did was dangerous and scary.

  12. Awesome. And cathartic. Go, you! You earned it. If only we could all turn back into Bruce Banner and walk off down a highway by ourselves.

  13. Oh, good lawd, the knee-weakening moment when you think one is gone. Holy effing hell. I hate that feeling.

    And an hour later, after I go apeshit, I remember that they thought it was play. But a scared mama means a kid is unsafe. So it’s not play, yo.

    I hate the moments after 4pm…every one of them.

  14. Good for you! I’ve had those second thoughts, too. Glad you didn’t apologize. You are SO the boss of them!

  15. I am so thankful for your ability to lead by example. Otherwise, I’d never know the amazing parenting techniques I’ve been missing out on. Oh wait. I’ve used this technique — accidentally, of course. Almost every time.

  16. That story is classic! I love it!! My son’s still too little to get the “Who’s the boss” treatment, but I’m sure he will in due time. Your freak-out sure does remind me of a few times my mother broke out the verbal napalm on me and my brother and sister. God, I miss that woman now that she’s gone.

  17. I hulk out on my kids about once every quarter. It’s not fun, it’s not intentional, but it’s fairly effective. Imagining your boy try to keep you out with the door stoppers made me laugh out loud. Sorry about that.

  18. My children are both grown now…..in their 40′s……After they had children of their own, I became a freakin genius! They have told me that it was perfectly ok that I went psycho some times……Some days that’s all you have.

  19. Oh, I know that moment when you go from, “I’m so worried” to “I’m going to f*&%ing kill you” all too well. I love your writing!

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