Mrs. Grumpy Pants and the Terrible Tuesday


You know what I do a lot? I do a lot of yelling.

Like today, for instance. I gave the kids a list of chores to do, after which they were to get screen time and a trip to the farmer’s market.

Did they do their chores?

Of course not. They screwed around in their room, and somehow their window screen was punched out and is now laying on the deck.

So what did I do?

I started yelling. Because I’m a yeller. And my disgust is best communicated with great volume and adrenaline.

Technically it wasn’t necessary to yell at them. They were on a time limit, so I could have just ignored their antics and let them deal with the consequences of their folly when the timer went off. Maybe they would get their act together, or maybe they would feel the weight of NOT getting their act together.

But no. I had to rob them of either opportunity by yelling.

I made it about me. I was mad they weren’t listening to me. I felt out of control. I took their disobedience as mockery of my authority and identity. I viewed their actions as a big Fuck You to my worth as a mother.

There might have been some of that, but mostly they were just screwing around. You know, the fart on your sister’s head kind of screwing around. There was no conspiracy to make me look bad in front of the dog.

I haven’t talked about my anger issues here in a long time. Mostly because I’ve been busy, but partly because I’ve been talking about my anger issues for about seven years.



While I’m not the same person I used to be, I’m definitely not who I want to be. I would give anything to be able to laugh it off, or roll my eyes, or shrug and say, Whatever, you guys are NUTS.

But no. I take it personally and yell. Still.

Okay okay, so I’m probably being a little mopey. It was a bad day, to be sure. But as usual, I perceive every day is as bad as Today. But thankfully, there’s tomorrow. And hopefully there will be no yelling.

One thought on “Mrs. Grumpy Pants and the Terrible Tuesday”

  1. My mom used to say that to me a lot. I’d make her upset about something and she’d look at me, seething, and say “you know, you may as well just say ‘FUCK YOU, MOM’ because that’s exactly what your actions are saying”.
    I can assure you, that was never my intent. And I’m certain that’s not T&R’s intent either. You kind of sound like you’re on the fence about knowing that to be true, but then kind of not.
    I love you, Jen. They love you, Jen. Jesus loves you, Jen. Take your messy self & your messy kids to the foot of the cross. It’s harder to yell when Christ’s blood is washing over your head. I know…my kids & I are there every fricking day. xo

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