Dealbreakers

It’s been a hot minute since I’ve had the ability to sit down and write. In fact, the only reason I am able to right now is because I’m currently locked in my bedroom with a snuggly blanket and my phone. It’s been a hard day, y’all. My littles haven’t slept and my bigs haven’t stopped eating and whining and in the middle of it all we’re getting sued by this crazy woman from a car accident over two years ago. So I met my wife at the door after work in full-on tears and she let me cry… After which she promptly took the helm and sent me upstairs alone. So here I am.

We came up with a new set of family rules a couple of weeks ago around the dinner table after a particularly rough patch with Noodle and Roo. Disobedience, dishonesty, disrespect, dismemberment. (Ok, so that last one was only in my head, but the struggle was real, believe me – and can I get two snaps for alliteration?) Melissa and I laid out our expectations and allowed the kids to pick one rule themselves. This rule gave them each the ability to outlaw something that made them absolutely crazy – it was a Dealbreaker. Any Dealbreaker offense allows the offended to simply walk away mid-sentence. All conversation ceases – you’re just done until you’ve apologized and made it right.

Naturally, this required a lot of discussion. You only get one, so the focus really should be on something big. For example: Roo tried to sell us on the idea of his Dealbreaker being that no one could bring up his imaginary Kindergarten girlfriend Chimichanga who broke up with him at the end of last school year for being too tall. While I agreed that Chimichanga’s loss was indeed a painful one, I thought he should perhaps focus on something a little less… fictional. In the end, Roo chose the words “Shut up” as his Dealbreaker. I was fully on board with this as I don’t believe I’ve ever said it to my kids (not out loud, anyway) and because it’s just not a kind way to speak. Mine is being interrupted. You get the general idea, right?

It’s worked really well, I must admit. And it’s actually kind of a powerful feeling to hold up your hand and loudly declare: DEALBREAKER! before turning to leave the room. I’m thinking of getting a Cleopatra wig to turn the drama up a notch, particularly if the wig comes with someone to feed me grapes and fan me with a palm frond. I’m pretty sure I can make this work for me.

As I was up here in my hidey-hole, listening to the ruckus downstairs from two surly toddlers and two surlier six-almost-seven year olds, I got to thinking about Dealbreakers and how I could incorporate the concept into how I treat myself. I gotta be honest, today feels like a gigantic failure and I am really struggling not to berate myself for staying under this snuggly blanket while my wife handles the fracas. I must’ve apologized mid-tears about 17 times. Right now, it’s hard not to mentally morph “this day was not successful” into “I am not successful”.

While I’m being honest, I should add that it’s darn hard to narrow down the list of self-inflicted crazymaking things to just ONE. I could unroll a whole list of things that drive my nuts about the way my brain works. I have a couple people in my life who regularly compliment me with the rhetorical phrase, “Is there anything you can’t do?!” but believe me… There are SO. MANY. things I cannot do. Let things go. Do anything in moderation. Leave the house without makeup. Laugh without mentally kicking myself for being too loud. And before I know it, I’m starting a checklist of flaws in response to a perfectly kind and considerate compliment. Finding the balance between being self-aware and being self-compassionate is my most drawn-out mental battle. Thirty-plus years is just too long to have the same fight with yourself.

Maybe that means right here is a good place to start. My new Self-Dealbreaker is using the day as a weapon against myself. I will choose to shout DEALBREAKER! at myself every time I say, “I failed today” and I will stop apologizing when things don’t align with my mental picture. I will try to stop glorifying the busyness of life and allow quiet to be restful and good instead of lazy and bad. I’m going to try and look at the day for what it actually is: underslept little humans who are emotionally exhausted from the day and consider Mom to be a safe place to let loose. And an underslept, overanxious mother who honestly did her best, even if the end result wasn’t what she’d hoped for. I can’t do much better than that, right?

Guess it’s time to go feed myself some grapes and find a palm frond. A mom’s gotta do what a mom’s gotta do.