yes, i yelled at her

Ever snap at your kids? I do. Probably too often. My new all-time low was that I kind of yelled at the baby the other night.

I'll give some back story.

I had been at the campground where my grandparents and a few other relatives were camping. By the end of the evening we were all holed up in various campers around the campsite watching the torrential downpour happening outside the camper windows. Of course my baby was crying, cuz she does that (a lot). My older kids were head to toe dirty from playing in puddles, one of my kids had crapped itself, we were trying to feed dinner to six kids (under six years old) and four adults all within the confines of a small camper. On top of this, my three older ones were crawling on top of and under the table, making loud poo jokes, squabbling, spilling and wiping their hands on the fabric of the benches they were eating on, all while I'm trying to feed my baby on and off on a separate bench. She doesn't like to be covered, I don't like showing off my breasts, so she's wiggling and wining and complaining.

After dinner I packed up to get ready to leave. One of my aunts asks "aren't you going to feed her?" Because she was holding her and Elliot was acting all whiny, sucky, and hungry. I said that no, I wasn't, because I'd been feeding her on and off the entire evening, and that the baby was a sucky and just wanted to cuddle, and that she'd be fine in the van, because she likes riding in vehicles.

Guess what.

An hour and a half of listening to her cry in the van. Sometimes parenthood is glorious.

I tried to tune her out and stay positive and happy for Mitchell (the other two were asleep), as he and I sang Taylor Swift songs and bopped along in our respective seats the entire drive home. That kid is more fun everyday.

I pulled into town, and we swung by the back of the restaurant where Steven works evenings so Mitchie could say hello to Daddy. And Elliot continued to wail. I took her out of her seat and fed her as we waited for Steven to finish up an order so he could come out and give his kids a hug.

She ate, she fell asleep, Steven was still busy so we left. Elliot woke back up and cried the rest of the way home. I know, babies cry, but sometimes it's all I can handle after evenings of trying to keep the little imp happy.

At home I rush the kids in, leaving the baby in her car seat while I raced the boys through the tub. It was after bedtime already and I was desperate to get them to bed. Elliot sat in her car seat and bawled the entire time. It's kind of like my life's soundtrack. She's crying right now actually.

Lots of times after bedtime I'll skip bath, but they were so filthy I just couldn't do it. So I raced them through as fast as I could. Somewhere in there, the doorbell rings. I wasn't in the mood for that either. I looked out the bedroom window to see who it was, and there were a few neighborhood kids scootering around on my driveway, and one was at the door, his scooter deposited in the grass. I ignored it. Jordan, however, answered the door. I find this maddening. I try to get her to NOT open the door when it's someone she doesn't know. Grandparents? Aunties? Okay. Strangers? Not so much.

She comes running into the bathroom to tell me that someone is here. I told her I was too busy and to shut the door (I'm nice like that). A minute later she says "He wanted to tell you something, he'll come back." Great.

I get the boys in their jammies and in bed, without story, song, etc. I was done.

I fetch Elliot from her car seat. You'd think she'd eventually stop crying, but no. I stick her and Jordan in the tub - miraculously, she stops crying, for a minute. Then she started again. By now she's just mad at the injustices of the world, and because she was left for ten minutes in her seat. Heaven forbid.

I race the girls through the tub and haul Elliot out. She's bawling away still. I wrap Jordan in a towel and leave her to dry herself. The doorbell rings again, I hear Jordan race to the door, but she stops when I yell at her to leave it. I've got my wet, naked baby in one arm, screaming her head off. With the other hand I open my bedroom window. "What!!??" I yell at the kid. He looked a little scared. He tried to say something about selling tickets for his school's football (in the summer??), but I couldn't hear him, because Elliot is still screaming in my arms. The poor kid is obviously a little scared, probably because I kind of angrily snapped "What!" out the window instead of responding like all the nice retired people a few doors down. He's stuttering through his sales pitch. Finally, I interrupted him and said "No thanks. And my kids are sleeping, so stop. ringing. my. doorbell!" "Okay," he says nervously before peeling out of my yard.

Then, I lay Elliot back on the change table. She's really really mad by now, so she's wailing away, kicking and flailing her little arms, and turning a beautiful shade of red. That's when I kind of, sort of yelled "Elliot! Stop Crying!!" And instantly felt bad, still mad, frustrated, and on the verge of crying myself. This job can be so tiring sometimes.

No I didn't shake her, pinch her, slap her bare baby bum, nothing like that, but come on. I yelled at the baby. It's not very nice.

Jordan was a little worried about the whole thing. I got Elliot into her jammies and Jordan into hers, and then I lay in Jordan's bed with the two girls in the glow of the night light to feed the baby and have a few minutes with my oldest. She told me that babies need lots of help and that I shouldn't get so mad at Elliot, because they need help with lots of things.

That didn't alleviate my mommy guilt at all.