I'm not sure how it happens, week after week. My mood or energy level doesn't seem to make a difference in how it goes—which is to say, I can have a fabulous week with the kids, getting everyone to their things on time, cooking delicious meals, roughhousing in the living room, rolling with the punches. But Saturday hits, like a truck, and by mid-afternoon, everyone is screaming at each other.
I have no idea what to do about it. Especially when my mood is good and my energy is decent (have I mentioned that my mood has been remarkably good lately? No? It has been), I feel like I did everything right. I was exquisitely nice to everyone, even my irrational children when they were being irrational about something of the "waaah she's touching the comic book I just handed to her" variety. I did everything I was supposed to do: I listened, reflected feelings back, cuddled, tried to inject humor into the situation. But there's still sighing and crying and heaving of shoulders and rolling of eyes and I...I want to give up.
I give up.
I employ the phrase my mother used to use (and still uses sometimes): "I wish I could wave my magic wand and fix it for you."
That helps for about five seconds, and then the little one gets jealous and bites the big one because he's sitting on my lap. And the worst part is that now Rob and I are snapping at each other, not quite saying, "They're your children. Do something about this!"
By Sunday, we all want to divorce and/or murder each other.
(Fortunately, we're usually friends again by Monday night.)
Weekends are the worst right now, and I can't tease out why. Lack of regular schedule? More people at home (with no school or work to go to) means less personal space in an already-small house? Mercury in retrograde?
Please tell me I'm not the only one.