Mother Erupted at Playground

… so the headline should read. I have a terrible problem with bottling up all my emotions and then, when I am tired and least expect it, the ugly demon inside bubbles to the surface and explodes in a terrifying rage. Whilst in the midst of rage I can hear my other voice saying, ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’. I am unable to stop myself once on this destructive roller-coaster ride.

I wish I could let off steam gradually. But no, I am a volcano filling up slowly until the point of no return.

Dan took this photograph whilst skiing on an erupting Mt Ruapehu in 1997:

I have plenty to blame my rage on – sleep deprivation for the past week, a stinking cold, the stressful thought of long-haul travel with two preschoolers at a time of a terror crackdown in the UK (our destination) and the inability to actively grieve for my Grandmother’s recent passing, having not been there to say farewell. But, it is no excuse for a public display of rage.

So, what happened? Well, Charlotte, now four but the size of an average two year old was waiting patiently to have a turn on the flying fox. The other children (there were tons as it’s the school holidays) told her she was too small. She told them how old she was and I explained she’d done it plenty of times before and was the best climber I knew for her age.

One woman commented how she’d seen a child break her arm on the flying fox, well that sent me into a rage. I basically said that she was being ‘size-ist’ and children shouldn’t be told not to do something just because of a risk of a broken limb – that counts out skiing, climbing etc. etc. I said how my family love extreme sports and if a limb is broken then we learn, pick ourselves up and try again – a little wiser for the fall – but we have to learn this lesson for ourselves and it is up to the individual to learn to assess risks and choose what their personal limit is (well, I didn’t say it quite so eloquently!).

Anyway, I ended up going home with tears in my eyes and have been totally embarrassed about my outburst. I wish I could contain myself at these times. These times are rare for me, but when the casket is opened there is no return.

It’s hard as a parent to always keep a smile on one’s face (and most of the time I do). A smile shared makes the world a better place and I try to always smile at strangers in passing and chat to fellow parents at the playground. I am normally a very friendly, sociable person. I am so ashamed of myself for today’s outburst and wasn’t going to blog about it, but then I wouldn’t be being honest about the challenges of parenting. It’s not all roses and it is one of the most challenging jobs in the world (and once a parent, always a parent, there is no ‘quitting’ when the going gets tough).

As parents we are constantly endeavour to model good behaviour. I just wish today’s episode could be erased.

So, what do I need to do to address this problem of mine? Perhaps on return from the UK I should see a shrink, make yoga a regular date in my diary (or maybe kick-boxing would be a better option!) and learn to let my emotions escape in little vents of steam, rather than occasional (but spectacular) outbursts.

In the long-term – get the children into snow sports so we can go let off steam on our beloved Mt Ruapehu (one of the world’s most active volcanoes!).

A Blast from the Past: Dan and I skiing at Treble Cone in the ’90’s: