Mommy’s Dirty Little Secret

Can we be honest? Like brutally.

Sometimes, probably an average of once a day, I wonder how in hell we are gonna survive this, this parenting business. At any given moment, I’m afraid it will all be too much and I will just completely snap. Or my husband will. Or my son will.

This afternoon was so bad. “Bad” doesn’t even begin to describe it. I’m not sure there is even a curse word in the English language that can begin to describe how horrible this afternoon was. I mean, this was worse than the “c” word, y’all.

Things kind of went off kilter this morning. Me Too has had white, clay colored poops for the past week. She hasn’t had much of an appetite. Yesterday, she threw up. But our pediatrician isn’t open on Thursdays, so I wanted to take her this morning. I had planned to take her, gotten her dressed in her non-school uniform clothes, the goal being to leave at the same time as Brother and get there and back before it started to rain (it looked like the heavens would pour forth at any moment.)

HRH stopped me. He said she seemed fine. She hadn’t thrown up in 24 hours; she would miss out if she didn’t go to school.


The only thing I really had to answer with was a hunch that things weren’t all well. Even if it was just stress, if it is enough to turn your poop funny colors then you would do well to fuck preschool for one day and stay home.

So I sent her to school. And worried about her all day. Dr. Google was not very helpful in the worry department, nor was his assistant, Nurse Facebook. I decided to take her to the doctor after school, even though that meant also taking Brother. In the freezing rain. Up hill. Twenty minutes.

Of course he protested. There is hardly one single, solitary thing that happens in this house that he does not protest or make into a scene worthy of a daytime drama. He howled and growled and carried on. Until we got to the red light, where Sister realized she had forgotten her mittens (which she loves now after all that wailing before,) at which point the ceaseless crying baton was passed to her.


The doctor prescribed her some probiotic something something and some tummy medicine, with instructions to come back in four days if the poo doesn’t turn brown.

As is our habit, I offered to take the kids out for a treat afterwards. In spite of the whiny build up, they had been quite well behaved in the doctor’s office. Me Too wants to go. Me First wants to go home. This turns into arguing, then umbrella bashing, then tears, then blood curdling shouts of “I hate yous” and “I wish you’d never been borns,” until at some point I think I had an out of body experience and watched from above as my eight-year-old bashed the pharmacy window with his Jusco pea-green umbrella. Luckily it appears that pharmacy windows in Japan are constructed to withstand this kind of abuse. (The pharmacists were professional enough to ignore it.)

What was I supposed to do?

This was no longer a teachable moment. This was survival mode.

And then two hours later, these same two children are very happily playing lemonade stand in the bathtub with yogurt cartons.

Meanwhile, I’m feeling faint and wanting to glug wine straight from the bottle (over the kitchen sink, of course) but I can’t find the goddamn corkscrew.

Maybe it’s different for those well-manicured Pinterest moms, I don’t know. But most days I wonder how on earth we are gonna make it without me losing my mind or snapping and hurting somebody.

I have no idea how I kept my temper today. Maybe I knew that losing my temper was too dangerous. If they manage to do my head in like this, me who loves them better than anything in the world, how on earth are they going to make it safely to adulthood?

But shhh.

We aren’t supposed to talk about things like this.

Either that or the rest of the world is perfect. In which case my poor little kidlets are even more screwed than I thought they were.


4 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Only You
    Feb 15, 2013 @ 23:12:23

    What happened with the kids and the meltdown probably happens a million times a day in any given place, but the fact that you managed to keep your cool – that is a lot more than what many other parents can do! You are definitely not alone. And I give you a lot of credit because you are doing this abroad. I was in Japan for the first 4 years of my son’s life. It was really, really hard. But you do have the ofuro. I hope you can take nice long soaks after days like this one.


  2. 1tric
    Feb 15, 2013 @ 23:57:02

    Think we were separated at birth! I like to say it loud though.


  3. Kym
    Feb 17, 2013 @ 15:43:40

    Maybe the only thing that keeps mums sane is that knowledge we acquire that kids go from being those crazy snarling monsters to being angelic, clean, doll-like loveable creatures in the bath within a few short hours. Tough work at the meltdown stage though.

    I like the sound of your pharmacists!


  4. gaijinwife
    Feb 17, 2013 @ 20:50:45

    I hope you found the corkscrew.
    That is all.
    And hugs, I feel like some days all I do is yell at the kids (Shou is the main receiver) which is so wrong so I think you did a fabulous job to not yell at them. I need to practice some deep breathing techniques or something!


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