Has Anyone Seen My Temper?
By Stephenie Freeman

 I seem to have lost my temper somewhere and can’t seem to find it.  There’s a possibility that it is in Target or more likely Wal-Mart.  I remember having it when I walked into the grocery store, but there’s a chance that I left it in the freezer section in between the frozen pizzas and ice cream.  At least it will still be fresh when I go to pick it up.

 There is a very good chance that it is at Chuck E. Cheese and an even better chance that it is at Toys R Us.  I always seem to have it when I go in, but I never, ever have it when I leave.  It probably slipped between the seats of my SUV when I turned around to yell at the children in the backseat.  And flying home from Thanksgiving recently, there’s a possibility that it could be in the airport bathroom while waiting impatiently for a connecting flight.  There are so many different places that my temper might be that I don’t even know where to start looking.

 I used to be a very calm and collected person.  There were very few things that fazed me.  Someone cut me off on the highway?  I handled it in stride.  A student threw up on his desk in my classroom?  I called the janitor without skipping a beat.  I used to be a calm, patient, even-keel person and then God said, “That’s enough of that!” and gave me children.

 From the moment the pregnancy stick turned from one line to two, I became a nervous and irritated woman whose temper is now shorter than a Baby Einstein video. 

 I have begun to recognize the signs of when I’m about to lose it.  I find myself grinding my teeth, my feet start stomping and I yell empty threats like, “Because I said so!”  And I wonder where my children learned to throw fits.

 Even with all of these cues, I still end up losing it.  Most days I loose it before or around four o’clock in the afternoon.  You know, that time in between naps and dinner?  We call it the Witching Hour at our house.  That’s the time of day when the ugliest part of mommy’s personality seems to appear: 

 “If you keep jumping on the couch like that, you’re either going to fall or I’m going to break your neck!”

 “Stop eating the Play Dough or I’m going to make that your dinner!”

 “Quit hitting your brother or you’re going to sit in Time Out for the next year and a half!”

 I never used to speak like this before I gave birth.  Now unfortunately for my husband it’s the norm.  The happy bride that he married it not the same woman he comes home to every evening.  It’s considered a good day at our house when he walks in the door and I don’t shove one or both of the children at him and say, “I’m done.  They’re all yours.”

 But with each day there is fresh hope.  I wake up smiling and then I hear a small voice yelling, “Where’s my waffle!”  Which makes me think; maybe I should check my freezer.  Maybe I left my temper next to the Eggos.    

 

Copyright 2006, Stephenie B. Freeman