Mini Mad Mom

I think in my mid 40's I'm finally realizing that micromanaging doesn't work. This has hit me in the head like a hammer since I started working for an explosive (but well-meaning) boss. More on that situation later, but just realize I keep seeing myself mirrored in her worse traits. Well, I'm on the same spectrum, let's say. I'm mini-mad woman.

It's 8pm and the children, the younger ones at least, should be getting ready for bed. But we haven't let Janet watch American Idol in a while, and this time it's on at 8, not 9, so I decide to leave the TV on (after a good hour of The Simpson's and Seinfeld.) Soon all are watching and Matt is, as always, doing work on his laptop.

I feel him wince as the mood gets frenetic. Some pounce on Janet for talking over the dialog (a combination of not having English entirely down yet, being ultra curious and having ADHD makes her the queen of interrupting.) She gets mad when others talk during the show, but how to explain the subtleties of waiting for the appropriate pause in the show? Everyone is being loud and Matt is cringing.

"Ohmigod!" I think, in panic. I urged him to adopt, and he thought our family was too chaotic to start with, and now it's all my fault. Matt is under so much stress, I worry. The problem with Matt is he gives too much of himself, then feels resentful that he, well, gave too much of himself. Honestly, he should nurture himself sometimes before giving himself so completely to us all. But that's another story. Back to me being the bane of his existence, causing this stress, convincing him to adopt, and then all the complications of ADHD and gender identity and family bickering.

Then comes the bad idea. "Hmmm," I ponder, "I'll intervene and then the stress level will drop." Now's the point where you're shouting from the sidelines "Nooooo! Don't go in there! Bad play!" Unfortunately you're reading this after the fact, so I can't hear you. I start menacingly interfering at every slight slander, whiningly (the spell check doesn't like that one, but spel lcheck and I  aren't friends, it doesn't like "transgender" either), ahem, whiningly demanding the kids stop squabbling/lower their voices/stop being so jangly. Belatedly I realize my own contributions add to the number of people whining and yelling and rather than alleviating any stress I have confirmed that this family is bonkers.

When will I learn that interfering (duh!) always makes things worse? Well, frankly, there is no real lesson to learn. If I don't interfere and someone gets hurt it's my fault too. By the end of "Idol" Matt has gone upstairs to try to sleep but Janet has wandered off  (even though she was the one who so urgently wanted to watch it) to invent more work for Matt. Her curiosity is an attribute Matt, being a scientist, greatly admires, and often leads to her needing a grown-up to help her a) set up a tent in her bedroom, b) create a solar oven, or c) rescue an old computer monitor from the curb and try to dismantle it. While he is proud of this trait, it drains him because he feels compelled to assist her in her endeavors. Stop setting up the tent! I bellow upstairs. Leave your father alone! Oh yeah, now he'll rest peacefully. Again, my attempts to protect him only make things worse.

The last straw was when Ted stopped to fart in Kyle's face--twice--before heading upstairs to bed. I used my deep belly voice to reprimand him "Get. Up. Stairs." I knew the kids usually felt like I favored Ted and let him get away with things. Ted had been out of hand and I wanted to prove to his siblings that I was on their side. One day last week 10 year old Ted was lashing out at almost 13-year old Kyle with a plastic sword and actually left red marks. Kyle was pretty hurt, shaken and ashamed his younger brother could injure him and he couldn't stop it.

So today Micromanager Mommy swoops in to save the day. Only when she growls in that certain belly voice, all the kids freak out. They, as one, stand up and swiftly silently climb the stairs. I have achieved quiet, but have scared the crap out of my children. Soon after I went to check in on the twins. "I was just trying to protect you from Ted." They just looked at me solemnly, unconvinced. Bad mommy.