If you’ve been reading for more than a week, you’ll know I hate rats.
In fact, after one particularly heated debate, I’m sure the only reason I stayed married was because then I would have a husband.
Who would deal with the rats.
Rats cause me to behave in ways very different from my normal methods of operating.
I once parked my car in our garage. My kids were about four. Immediately I heard a ratcheting noise that scared me. I looked up and looking down at me was a beady-eyed rat.
Its’ pale-pink, ribbed tail loping down towards me.
My heart started racing, my breath panting. I tried telling myself it was more scared of me than the other way around. But we both knew that wasn’t true.
We just stared at one another. Neither moving.
For what seemed an inordinately long time.
The only way to escape was to go underneath and my irrational brain just knew, just knew, it would jump on my head (hey, I read the first chapter of The Rats by James Herbert, I know what they’re capable of.)
In the end, I leant in my car, never taking my eyes off the beastie, unstrapped my four year-old, made a lot of noise and dashed for the house.
Thereafter I added a ninth reason to my post 8 Reasons I’m A Terrible Mommy.
I sent my kids into the garage first.
I figured their innocent, oblivious banging and crashing as they made their way to the car and climbed into their car seats would be enough to send the biggest and bravest rat into the furthest corner of the rafters.
There they’d go, chattering away, Dora The Explorer backpacks on their back, excitedly readying themselves for preschool, the library or park, whatever was on their four-year-old menu for the day.
Unknowing that lurking in their murky midst was a terror too dreadful for their mother to behold.
They were protecting me.
I only entered the garage when both kids were in their seats, thereby not doing my job.
I wasn’t putting myself between them and danger. I was consciously, shamelessly, putting.
My. Needs. First.
I wasn’t proud of myself.
Today I was due to walk with a friend. We normally have breakfast but she wants to lose some weight, so a walk it was.
Then she had to cancel because she had a sick child. My advice to her was in the form of one my favorite mantras:
‘Drink tea, eat chocolate.’ It’s a sure thing.
It won’t help with the weight loss but it will help her feel better.
It will soothe and calm and nurture her frazzled mommy mind when the going gets tough.
And you, too. Be kind to yourself today. Don’t fight on too many fronts at the same time.
And if you feel guilty for (shock, horror, oh my!)
Putting. Your. Needs. First.
Remember how I sent my preschoolers into an evil rat den.
That’ll make you feel better. 😉
Are you a terrible mommy? Or am I on my own? 😉 What do you do to be especially kind to yourself when the going gets rough? Let me know in the comments!
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