Confessions of a Manic Mom: Guilt

Ah, the holidays are here. Joy and good cheer, friendship, love, and peace have permeated the world. Well parts of it, anyway: The UPS delivery guys are always very cheerful and kind. They wish me Happy Holidays nearly every day.

My darling son, however,

is a trial and doesn’t seem to give a damn about the concept of Santa watching for good and bad behavior. Lucas has exactly ONE CHORE, one responsibility in his life: He must put his shoes in his shoe basket in his room.

Last night we went round and round about it. It progressed to a time out, escape from time out, and eventually culminated in my issuing a scream — a ROAR — that came from deep within me (possibly from somewhere in the vicinity of my toes), and Lucas’s banishment back to time out. Lucas cried because my roar scared him and I immediately felt guilty.

Guilt is a big motivator in my life. I feel guilty for all kinds of things, and yet, I am a relatively good person. It’s easy to say I experience this because I was raised Catholic. But the truth is, I don’t remember religious guilt even being a big factor in my religious upbringing. Probably this is something I picked up from my mom. She feels guilt for all sorts of things, too. Maybe it comes with being a mom.

Last night I scared the bejesus out of my kid … all because of some shoes on the floor. Ugh.

4 Responses to “Confessions of a Manic Mom: Guilt”

  • dakini_grl
    December 21, 2005 at 1:54 pm

    I don’t know about guilt. Are you supposed to be smiling and pleasant and logical all the time? At some point doesn’t he need to see that you have boundaries? I remember Flonk saying he’s banging on fences. Well guess what? He found the (electrified) edge of that one. He’ll figure out that you still love him and everything’s okay. Me, I doubt I would have handled it so well…

    Reply

  • flonkbob
    December 21, 2005 at 4:14 pm

    An occasional roar doesn’t hurt anyone. You’re better off finding another way to indicate the boundary has been reached though…otherwise it never counts until you roar. Sort of like those parents who count in the store… “1..I mean it! 2…You’re really pushing it…th..thr…do you want me to say it? You’ll be sorry!” Bah, kids know just how far to go. Every kid is different though, you just have to figure out how to indicate the fence line without the roar. Unless you like the roar. Me, I like it.

    My kids knew that if I became very very quiet and calm that they had best stop what they were doing or run like hell. “Uh-Oh, you made Dad calm! Ruuunnnn!”

    Reply

  • mrplanet4
    December 21, 2005 at 6:44 pm

    I think we’ve talked about my mom’s tactic. It was a grip on the arm and a quiet hissing voice as she marched me to the chair in the corner. Terrifying. Scared and sniffling I would be in the corner and hope that mom would come save me from…well, from mad-mom, I suppose.
    The most devestating punishment was being sent to my room. I would shriek and cry and call for mom (again to save me from her angry self) for what seemed like hours.

    Got the point across, really. I felt horrible that I had made mom upset. And while it was probably because I wanted mom to be nice to me (not because I was sad that I had upset her) instead of pissed off with me I think it was an effective behavioral tool.

    Reply

  • dakini_grl
    December 22, 2005 at 10:24 am

    My parents were always polar opposites on this one; my mom was highly reactive, verbal, full of emotion. But yeah, Dad was like the deep freeze. One silent look, and if you weren’t already running, you were dead meat.

    Reply

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    Thanks for visiting! I’m Sara, editor and writer, wife to Ian, and mother of two precious boys. I am living each day to the fullest and with as much grace, creativity, and patience as I can muster. This is where I write about living, loving, and engaging fully in family life and the world around me. I let my hair down here. I learn new skills here. I strive to be a better human being here. And I tell the truth.

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