Sometimes, I am the problem.

I had to give myself a time out the other night.

Let me explain.

You know those nights when you’re tired? You have no idea why, but you are. You’re physically tired, you’re mentally tired. You’re tired of all the tiny inconveniences that by themselves are not a big deal, but piled on top of each other make you want to rip your face off.

You’re tired of the commute. You’re tired of the whining. You’re tired of forgetting to buy a new damn toothbrush because the old one is completely nasty but you still have you use it. You’re tired of the fact the baseboards need a good cleaning but by God you are NOT doing that shit tonight (or tomorrow, or this weekend …). You’re tired of your stove that’s broken. You’re tired of your neighbor’s farking dog who refuses to shut the hell up.

You’re just … tired.

When I get tired like that, it almost always happens on nights the husband is working later (I have no idea why). It starts with getting caught in traffic, barely making it to pick up the boys in time, listening the whining about how they’re dying of hunger … and then, then I usually lose it.

The snapping. The yelling. The uncontrollable OMFG GO AWAY feeling. Stop arguing. Stop making a mess. Eat your dinner. No, just eat your dinner. Why are you sitting that way at the table? JUST EAT YOUR DINNER.

And then I shake my head and realize that my kids are looking at me like they don’t know who I am. They look … sad.

And that’s when I leave the table, walk into my room, and slam my head into a cold pillow. Deep breaths.

Deep, deep breaths.

Because then I realize, I’M the problem. They didn’t come home in a pissy mood, I did. I am the one in a bad mood and that shit is rubbing off of them. They’re misbehaving because I’m being a jerk to everyone. And they don’t deserve that – none of us do.

I am the one making all of us miserable.

It doesn’t happen very often – I promise, I’m not a danger to myself or my kids – I just sometimes don’t realize that it’s not other people or things that are the problem, it’s me. I just hate, hate, hate that sometimes it takes me the better part of a day to realize that.



  1. My gosh this is so true. I come home pissy way more than I would like. Probably way more than I even need to. And that mood definitely rubs off on my son. But of course, in my head I think, “is he out to get me? why won’t he eat? why won’t he stop whining? why is he looking at me that way?!” It’s because I’m the one being the jerk…wow. This hit home. Definitely have to mentally refer to this when I feel that tired feeling creeping in.

    • We can both mentally refer back to this post … I can tell I’ll need a refresher at some point. Chin up, mama.

  2. Kass Kaplan says:

    Man how did you know how my week has been going?! I have no idea how many times I have yelled at my kids this week and then that feeling when Aiden gets off the bus and comes running over to me, big grin on his face makes me feel like I’ve been an ass. I need a night out with friends to unwind and thankfully I have one schedule for 2/21, but it can’t come fast enough. I think its also the fact that my ‘to do” list keeps getting bigger. Time outs sound great.

  3. TOTALLY RELATE!!!!!!!!

    -But for real, why can’t they just eat their fucking dinner?!?

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