I’ve been working on refinishing this table my husband found for free on the side of the road.
The top was kind of messed up, so my dad took it off, flipped it over, and put it back on.
Then he painted it black.
I’m putting a checkerboard on top. There are multiple steps and coats of paint involved, so it’s taking a while.
Yesterday I was painting out by the garage in the driveway. I had to run inside quickly to get something.
About 30 seconds after I came inside, Number 5 ran in behind me.
“Mommy! Number 6 is painting on the table!!!” she yelled.
No.
NO!!!
Serenity now.
Serenity fucking now.
I ran outside, yelling.
“NO! NOOOO! Put that brush down!
GET.
INSIDE.”
Number 6 froze. He dropped the brush. He didn’t move.
“I SAID GET. IN. SIDE.”
I hadn’t reached the driveway yet, and I couldn’t see what damage he had done.
He still hadn’t moved.
I was getting more and more angry as I neared the table.
“Number 6. Get inside. If you messed up my table,
I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!!!”
His eyes grew large.
He started walking.
And bawling.
And through the tears, yelling,
“NO MOMMY!
DON’T KILL ME!
DON’T KILL ME MOMMY!!!!”
Ugh.
Who was doing the damage now?
Another childhood scar.
I ran over and gave him a hug.
“I’m sorry. Mommy was just angry. I’m not going to kill you.”
The crying subsided.
Phew.
He was over it.
Later last night as I was putting him to bed,
rocking him in the chair and singing him a song,
and we were having a nice, intimate, quiet mother-son moment,
he looked up at me,
and in his sweet little voice he said,
“Mommy?
Wemembah today?”
We had played outside, and read a couple books. We went to pick up t-shirts and had a big laugh in the car when Number 7 was being really funny.
I didn’t know which one he was going to bring up.
“Wemembah in the dwiveway when you said you wah going to kill me?”
Ugh.
I guess he wasn’t over it.
That one might have left a mark.
Forget the college funds.
I think it’s time to start a therapy fund.
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I read somewhere that when we get really ticked off at our kids to yell “what’s wrong with you? are you ___” and insert their age. I guess its supposed to help you remember that they are still kids.
Hugs….we have all been there. I told my son (when he was about 4) that I was going to sell him to the gypsies. He cried like I was poking him with hot pokers…..and still brings it up 4 years later……sigh.
oh yes… scars. When my kids were about 2,3, and 7, they were all yelling at each other and I was trying to get them to stop w/o losing my mind, and I asked them why they were all yelling and my oldest said, “but we learned it from you Mommy.” UGH! STAB TO THE HEART! yes, I do lose it quickly and loudly sometimes… but now that is a scar on MY heart…that that is how he felt, that is what he learned from me… But yanno what? He’s almost 20 now (in a few weeks) and an AMAZING young man, and the other two, at 14 and 15…great kids! It will be ok. the words may stick in their memory, but your love and actions will greatly overcome those whispers in their mind whenever they arise! Hang in there!