The equivalent to 1.21 gigawatts

Today was a rough day in Mommyland, AND in Humanland. I make a distinction between the two lands because sometimes as a mother (particularly a stay-at-home mother) I just don’t feel human or connected to a general population of people. This is not a complaint, just an observation.

My house is ripe with retaliation right now. There are chairs being pulled up to kitchen counters and knives being wielded. There are pounds of strawberries being consumed by one three year-old in the span of five minutes.

There is a baby brother being pushed down all in the name of toy claiming. There are nap strikers. There is a boy who hates diaper changes to an insane degree, resulting in the most tiring poop covered ten minutes of my life. There is the throwing of the food which I think might be similar to the running of the bulls if those bulls looked like goldfish crackers or bananas. There are flailing of arms, stomping of feet, clenching of teeth, and testing of scream shrieking capabilities. And who could forget the kicking of the crotch, mine to be precise.

So yes, today is a day that I would prefer not to be my Groundhog Day.

Turns out though that mothers are human despite the robotic tendencies they may find themselves exhibiting. And these mothers (I can only speak for myself though) do not have the super hero ability to just suck it up all day, everyday.

Because sometimes if you heat leftover macaroni and cheese too long in the microwave it will explode, which is a shame because macaroni and cheese is good and comforting you know? Having to clean that up off the walls would be sad and messy.

I'll give you a hint. I am not the microwave in this metaphor.

So yes, I admit that I lost it in front of Bosco, meaning I cried, sobbed was more like it. I don’t normally like to blame my emotions on womanhood, but I’m almost positive I was PMSing or at the very least ovulating from the right side. It was the perfect storm type of day. A lesser man would have freaked from all the emotions and drama in the air and sent him running because apparently that just doesn’t work with some people.

But you know who it does work for? My oldest son. He saw me in this deplorable state and immediately, like a bolt of lightning had just hit him, stopped acting like a fiend and tried to make me feel better. Maybe that is a testament to the fact that my son is awesome. And maybe it's also a testament to the power of snot and tears. 

Now, of course I feel a little silly for crying in front of my son but sometimes these matters cannot be helped. I wouldn’t purposefully do this again. But I am intrigued to know that when I am at my lowest, sniveling in front of my offspring, I have the strongest effect. 

Yes, but I must be very careful with this power that my tears apparently wield. Only to be used in states of emergency, or when chocolate faileth to deliver relief.