The other day I lost it. I snapped and started yelling at the top of my lungs… at my cat.
A few weeks back I was helping my mum clean out my grandmothers house when I found a clear plastic sack full of Christmas ornaments. Lovely breakable vintage Christmas ornaments.
While working on decorating the tree I spent some time sorting through the vintage glass ornaments from my Grandmother’s house, I set aside six to keep for myself. I then very carefully wrapped the remaining ornaments and put them in a box for my sister to go through.
My husband called me into the other room. I got tied up doing stuff with the baby, and next thing I know it’s five hours later and I’m sitting on the floor in my daughters bedroom when I hear a sort of tinkle tinkle smash noise. I was remarkably fast in getting the baby off of my lap, and sprinting down the hallway. Still not fast enough. As I rounded the corner into the dining room I see my cat up on the table, paw extended, second ornament on it’s way to the floor. Smash.
The same cat who has taken to peeing in inappropriate places, and just last week peed on my purse. The same cat who just that day woke me up at four in the morning, for no obvious reason, and then went on to make all sorts of loud noises and wake the damn baby.
I just sort of lost it. I started yelling at the top of my lungs. First somewhat reasonable things like, get the hell away from there, and get down. But then I found myself sobbing and screaming at the cat I HATE YOU. To be honest, there may have been a few expletives in there too. I was doing my best to suppress the urge to simply open the front door and toss the cat out when I turn to find my daughter standing in the front room staring at me in object horror with her hands over her ears.
There are little broken pieces of glass everywhere. The baby, left by herself in the other room, is now crying. I can’t leave the broken bits there for fear the damn cat will harm himself. I’m crawling around on the floor with a dustbin sweeping up glass particles, while the baby is howling at me. In short, it was a perfectly lousy moment.
But the worst part was the look in my daughter’s eyes. She told me, “Mommy your angry voice makes my brain hurt”, and she called out, “Mojo, you can come see me in the front room. I still like you.” I felt so bad for having lost it, and double so for having done it in front of her. I apologized to her for yelling, I tried to explain away my actions, and I still felt like a complete heel. Still do. Sometimes I feel like I’m in the running for worst mom of the year.