How much is too much before one has even gotten to sip the sweet nectar of one’s morning coffee? I can handle a few whines here and there, but two full-blown temper-tantrum-like breakdowns before 8 AM?! And that as a follow up to Drama Queen’s rather loud and annoying 6:30 AM investigation of how many “boo-boos” (aka beauty marks) Mama has got on her right arm. Whoa! I must be losing grip! Let’s blame it on too much partying over the weekend.
Despite it all, I love motherhood and will be sorry when my kids are too old to be bothered with me anymore.
But indeed, how much is too much? Compromise, I mean. Compromise is a rather interesting concept, one with which I have been fascinated and have struggled for years, literally. How much can a woman “bend” before she is broken? How much can one “give” before one reaches the bottom and registers “empty”? Where exactly does one draw the line between compromise and selling out? I’ve always found these to be tough questions: tough, life- altering questions. How about you?
My two and three year old girls look at me with my cup of coffee and say, “Shhhhh mommy cup of coffee…” They will actually shush each other and come look at how much coffee is left in my cup…when it’s almost empty they’ll start asking for stuff.
I’ve often wondered myself how much I can take ’till I break. So far I’ve gotten close to that unknown abyss, but haven’t been pushed over. I think the bad thing happens when the breaking occurs.
Like the local newspaper and Nancy Grace and experts on CNN talking about how awful you are kind of bad thing.
That’s the fear that keeps me sane. My mugshot on CNN. I couldn’t roll with that madness.
the later in the day, the less patience I have. When the girl starts whining at 5:00, every good feeling that I have had gets flushed down the toilet.
Like today
I usually go off the deep end if I have to repeat a request more than six times within a 5 minute span. Witness:
“Boy - please put on your shoes. It’s time to go.”
“Can I have a granola bar?”
“Boy - please put on your shoes. It’s time to go.”
“Did you pack my bathing suit? Cause it’s a swimming day.”
“Yes, I packed your bathing suit. I’ve been working here for a long time - I know what’s up. Boy - please put on your shoes. It’s time to go.”
“did you pack the one with the sharks or the fire trucks?”
“Boy - once again, please put on your shoes. It’s time to go.”
“Why are your ears turning red?”
“Boy - please put on your … ahh, heck with it, I’m now going to be 20 minutes late.” (MM scoops shoeless boy in arms, puts directly into car seat, and stuffs shoes into lunch bag to be put on at day care.)
AAAAAAAaaaand…scene.
Yes, compromise vs selling out. Something I want to know where the line gets drawn too.
I’m laughing b/c my home knows until Mama’s had her tea ya besta get steppin’!
You know you pose a good question. I think a lot of it has to do with choosing the right battle. Sometimes, we have to weigh our choices. My hubby is hard core about everything. To him you never bend otherwise you appear as a wuss. I guess that’s the military in him. I on the other hand hate the battle of wills (shocking huh, coming from this woman of “tude” lol) and actually bend a lot. Hmmmmmm that’s probably why I’m near a breaking point…hmmmmm
[…] are the secret to happiness, there is always that part of me which struggles with unreasonable compromise and clings fast to the ideals that my heart are unwilling to relinquish in effort to “keep the […]