The Evil Mom in the Parking Lot. . .Was Me

A long time ago, when I only had kids - who were not related to me -  for 6 hours a day and then was able to go drinking, I had a reputation for being patient. With children, anyway. I'd shake my head when I heard parents yelling at their kids. I'd shudder when my students would repeat things their parents said. I would not be like that when I had kids. I had patience. Too bad this virtue seems to have abandoned me lately, which is a damn shame since my youngest child won't even be 2 for another month.

And because my patience seems to have dropped out with my placenta, will power and love of beer, I MAY have given the woman in the shopping center parking lot today the wrong impression. Because after listening to me yell at my middle child today before letting him into the minivan she might think I'm kind of evil.

When Lovebug started screaming as we were leaving McDonald's, I was already a bit grumpy. I had already endured humiliation at the end of his sports class (They invited parents in to race on the scooters. Would you like to know how much I lost by? The kid who never participates beat me, that's how much I lost by.) and tried to control ChunkyMonkey in several public places (never easy). So as I hurried them out the door so we could rush to school drop-offs, Lovebug's screams may have pushed me an eensy bit over the edge. Apparently his leg was damaged in some way that did not involve blood, broken bones or even bite from his brother but still made him scream.

There was no mark on the leg.

Once outside, I asked him if it hurt as much as a shot. He wailed, "Noooo!!!!!" I advised him that he didn't need to scream then. This caused more screaming.

I marched them to the car and got the other 2 in. Then I got in Lovebug's face. I asked him if it still hurt. He looked mildly confused and started to shake his head. I asked him why he was still screaming.

"Because you didn't listen to me!" he yelled. And then he started screaming again.

Somewhere a little tiny part of my brain reminded me that he was doing this for attention. Which he was getting. A much bigger part of my brain was thinking, "SHUT UP, FOR FUCK'S SAKE."

What I said wasn't better. It was something about learning how to say "Ow", not humiliating the family by screaming in public and shut up right now. I lifted the finally quiet Lovebug into the van and turned to see a woman staring at us. I was blocking the door to her car while I yelled at my kid.

So you may have guessed why she thinks I'm evil.

Which I kind of am, because I don't know what to do about Lovebug. He seems great for a while, and then something sets him off and he screams. And screams. And yells. And screams some more. The something that can set him off can be a bump or a scrape - the exact same kind of bump or scrape that he will get over quickly at other times.

The other day when I encouraged him to take a deep breath so he calmly tell me the problem, he started yelling that he couldn't take a deep breath because he was so upset. Then he took a deep breath and started screaming louder.

He doesn't do this at school, though he has had some days where he's cried over everything. Most of the time he's a sweet-natured, smiling kid who makes me complicated things out of Legos and makes up creative games with his sister.

Any ideas on how I can stop being so evil to him?

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