trying not to get bogged down

I'm trying really, really hard not to be the stereotypical Martyr Mom.  You know the one, right?  She keeps doing and doing for her children, trying to create experiences that are fun and memorable for everyone, but in the end she gets an abundance of snottiness, bad attitude and a complete lack of gratitude in return.  She finds herself standing in the middle of the room, fists clenched at her sides, blowing up at everyone, calling each child to task for their unacceptable behavior and reminding them of the thankfulness that they should be feeling and expressing.

I'm trying. 

This week brought a day in which JAM's teacher was going to be out of school, and when the substitute "teacher" was scheduled and announced, JAM moaned and groaned about the mean sub with whom he has had lots of experience.  There are only two weeks left to the school year, so I imagined that his day would involve lots of worksheets and a whole lot of "be quiets" (or worse?).  That helped make my decision easier.  How about a good old-fashioned "playing hooky" day?  What if we hit the zoo before the crazy summer vacation/tourist season begins?  Lions, tigers, and bears, here we come!

Along with a friend and his two sons, we hit the National Zoo by mid-morning and got the "priority" wishes for animal visits all set up: our friend's oldest son called the Tiger Tracks exhibit, Red wanted to pet a cow, Pudge was dying to see the snakes, and JAM was all about Lemur Island.  We consulted the map to lay out a plan of attack to ensure that everyone's wishes were met.  Snacks were doled out accordingly, and we leisurely wound our way around the lower part of the zoo.  A little-later-than-usual bagged lunch was consumed in an almost empty picnic table pavilion, and many misting areas were stopped at to relieve our entire crew from the blazing sun and humidity.  Seriously- a fantastic time.  No rushing around, no huge crowds, and a whole lotta good planning and respecting everyone's reasonable wishes.  (Sorry, no gift shop or vending machine purchases were in the plan, and there wasn't actually too much kvetching about in the end.)

Even taking into consideration the fact that JAM's medication wears off about midday and the second dose needs about 30 minutes to kick in, along with the realization that there was no way we were going to make it home for even a short segment of naptime, I still expected a little bit of gratitude or happiness from the children.  The children who were given reprieves from their "normal" days.  The children who were listened to and respected.  The children who had an entire morning and most of an afternoon revolving around them.

Instead, I was rewarded with whining, complaining, back talk, under-the-breath comments, screaming, tantruming, refusing, ignoring, eye rolling, you name it.  Maybe I'm exaggerating it a little (maybe), but throughout the time while we were at the zoo there were bits and pieces of nastiness, but nothing too bad.  Until it was time to go.  And then all hell broke loose, and each of my dear, lovely children turned into monsters.  And thankfully, I was in a public place, so I was able to keep my cool a little easier.  I wasn't even offended when another mom attempted to help me rein in Red while she threw a fit, since I was wrestling an adamantly-refusing-to-leave Pudge into the umbrella stroller.  Of course, Red refused to even acknowledge the stranger talking to her in any way other than to turn her head a complete 180 degrees in the opposite direction.  (Thankfully, she didn't go all Linda Blair on me, but I honestly wouldn't have been too surprised if she had.)

Once we got back home, the attitudes continued to go downhill.  It didn't help that all I wanted to do was to take just a wee little nap on the couch.  But nope, there were bags to be unpacked and dinner to be prepared and baseball practices/thunderstorm predictions that needed to be figured out and diapers that needed to be changed and consequences that needed to be explained and on and on.  By the end of the day, the only thought running through my head on track repeat was: Why did I even bother? 

Why did I walk for hours in 90 degree heat, with a backpack on and at least one hand always pushing a stroller?  Why did I devote a half hour to preparing lunches and snacks and water bottles?  Why did I (and my dear friend) wrestle two carseats into the back row of his van, struggling to get those damn LATCH system things to work?  Why did I make it a point to ensure that everyone's "special animal pick" was honored?  Why did I give JAM a free get-out-of-school-on-a-sub-day card?  Why?

See, the Martyr Mom role is just too damn appealing.  Yup, I yelled a little, and I expressed my disappointment to the children about their behavior (not so much to 2 year old Pudge, a little more to 4 year old Red, and a helluva lot more to almost-10 year old JAM).  I especially reinforced that I was left very unmotivated to try to do something special like that again in the near future as a result. 

But the thing is, I really didn't want to leave the day in our memories on such a sour note.  So, we've been talking a lot about the cool things that we saw, and the kids have told Daddy their stories- especially Pudge who has repeated again and again, "I like snakes, but Daddy NO like to see them."  (Nope, he's definitely not a fan.)  And while the images of eye rolls and frowns and tears remain in my head, these pics are the images that will remain in our family photos.  I'm trying hard not to be the Martyr Mom.  It helps a lot to look at these cute shots.

Loving when she hears that she's not alone in her parenting observations,