August 1, 2004
-
SINK-i--n---g
When I began, it all seemed very porcelain-and-pretty-flowers.

The kids were quietly and amusingly playing some sort of imaginative game in the next room, the gleaming new faucet and associated apparatus did, indeed, appear on first blush to live up to its touted "easy-install" moniker, and quite honestly my little farmyard kitchen just felt nice and pleasant, this early Sunday morning.

An hour later, the children had come to an impasse about their matchbox cars ("SHE has two more 'cuties' than I do!" sobbed the youngest, clinging to my ankle. "But I OWN one of them," shrieked the eldest, her slender legs hopping up and down just out of my crick-necked position under the sink. "It's NOT SHARED!"). The irritating drop of water from the lose hose dribbled down my elbow. My rear end slipped on the rotting floorboard. The impossible-to-uninstall old sink apparatus finally gave way under my grappling fingers, showering unnamable gunk on my chin. "MOMMY!" screamed the youngest at full bore: "ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME??"
I closed my eyes. Yes, I thought. I am listening. I am listening to your current temporary anguish, soon to be completely obliterated by delight at some new diversion. I am listening to the dripping of water, soon to be stopped by my sweat and cursing. I am listening, and I'm not worried.
It's what I'm hearing, malgre all attempts to close my ears, that's worrying me. I'm hearing my heart beating rapidly and furiously. I'm hearing my teeth grind. I'm hearing my slimy fingernails grating on rusty bolts as I clench my fists.
Why am I always so angry?
I know perfectly well that there are flowers-and-white-porcelain moments, and dripping-rusted-bolt moments. I know they're all temporary. I know that when I get to the hereafter no-one's going to care about installation or uninstallation of new faucets, but they are going to care if I couldn't keep my temper and laugh at it all.
I need not to be angry.
How?
Comments (17)
Hrm. I think that is kind of like being in labor, and needing not to be in labor pain.
Anger has its uses.
But, sometimes a deep breath, some time stolen alone can help a lot.
I don't get mad at the kids that much right now, but I'm also considering preschool for the first time, so there you have it. Gotta remain flexible, I guess.
what struck me (beyond the fact that you're fixing it yourself...i stand in awe) is the "what's on the outside isn't always what's on the inside" comparison
porcelain/clean/gleaming
rust/gunk/sweat
i never thought about that before.
seems to apply to people as well as inanimate objects, eh?
as far as how not to be angry? can't stop anger any easier than stopping love and other human emotions. maybe what you need are more sinks to climb under so you can continue letting them work it out on their own while you take yours out on the pipes.
(of course, i stopped at one because i knew i'd be the shrew mom screeching...shut UP all the time.)
cripes. i've babbled. you haven't written in so long and no sooner do you, than i'm back to babbling. fah. change my name to brook and get on with it.
You've got two kids, a job, a home, a husband, and a sink that needed replacing.... how in the hell could you not be angry, for piss sakes? Although I'm betting it's not always anger, but more frustration. I think the only way not to be angry/frustrated is to be completely by yourself for extended periods of time, and I very seriously doubt that you give yourself that luxury very often. Do it more, woman! Get the kids to the nanny or their granny's and take off. Make regularly scheduled appointments to Just You time. You're worth it, dammit.
Nothing more angering than being thwarted by an inanimate object. Uninstalling sink fixtures can require extreme measures. I once had to counter-drill the washers to break them. Threads were just not going to work. Still, the "Man over Machine" sense of accomplishment should compensate you somewhat. Let's hope the new one doesn't leak.
I can empathize with your experience SO much because I am presently unbuilding and rebuilding an entire house. It's right down to the painting now.
If you figure it out, let me know. I struggle with that a lot lately. I hate blowing up at my kidlets, but I do at times. I just et so tired that I can't always keep it in control. I hope those porcelain times override the blow ups and that's what they remember.
oh jeez, when you find out please let me know... today I asked MyKidz to help me move some books from one shelf to another and...
suffice to say I have done a really bad job of raising mine because they cannot even accomplish the simplest of tasks without complaining...
sign me, ANGRY-ASS MOM!
The only thing that consistently cools my anger these days are the reassuring and empathetic voices of friends...like those above. And right here, I hope.
There are no single answers, but taking the time to remove yourself, walk to the computer and write it out is as good a methodology as any I've found.
,
DiDi
(Of course, the day I replaced the faucets on the kitchen sink? Making it possible to actually stand upright before our Japan-scale counters and wash dishes? And the Professor didn't even notice for 24 hours? Oh how I seethed with rage.)
Anger management is a lot of harrrrrrd work. Sometimes you just feel overwhelmed by what's expected of you. Everyone around you demands attention and it is disorienting, scary, frustrating, isn't it. I've assigned my chinese doctor to assist me and I'm trying to deal with it now, actually, before the child/ren arrive.
Digression - I can't hear or read the phrase, " the hereafter" whithout Artie Johnson's "Old Man" routine popping into my head, (as he slides across the park bench to sit next to the prudish lady with her purse securely grasped in both hands) "Do you believe in the hearafter?....Then, you know what I'm here after! heh heh heh"...and then the obligatory head whomping with the aforementioned purse.
My wife has gotten so used to me reciting that line that all I get out is, "Do you..." before I get The Look!
Oh yeah, about the anger thing. I was told not too long ago that I had "issues" to deal with. That probably means that me offering insight into one contemplating latent anger would sorta be like the blind leading the blind.
But, hold my hand for a second and I'll try to lead us two steps without walking off of a cliff. ...I have written three starts and erased them all (felt my toes hanging over the cliff). I think its too complex and personal a subject to wrap up in a couple concise comments. So, I'll dodge the issue with a grandiose observation that life for the conscientious person is one long struggle with introspect.
Hmmm, I was trying to think of something inspiring and inventive to say in response, but uhhh, I'm at a loss. I like the analogies/metaphors in your entry.
How? There's no way not to feel anger, short of medicating yourself to the hilt. And who wants to do that? I don't think it's the feeling of the emotion that's a bad thing, I think it's how you handle it, both for yourself and for your kids, that matters.
anger is the emotion i'm best at. controlling it is the thing i'm worst at. constant struggle, especially when it's the kids making me rage. i don't have any answers, but i think that blogging instead of putting something or someone through the drywall is a good start...
make the men do the plumbing!
or take the kids.
or just take the brunt.
Do you actually live in my head? I have no answers or pithy poignant comments that will help. Some of your friends above have great thoughts. Thanks for lending your eloquent voice(s) to the query of my existence. If you find an answer, I'd love to know. Anger is the dragon with whom I must wrestle daily, hourly. Ugly beast.
i'm not always angry but i am always tense. and i only notice it when i already feel so tired.
maybe it is the same as anger, maybe not. all i do is try to be more conscious, more aware, and make an effort to relax.
music and sleep also help. and lots of laughter.
Nice way to turn getting annoyed at kids and sinks into a peice of writing. Its funny how things can appear so clean and perfect, but when it gets down to it, aren't.
Comments are closed.