Distraction

"Acknowledge the feeling, then distract with self-soothing."

Dr. Skinner's words replay over and over in my mind as I feel the rage coming on. Before I can even finish the thought it washes over me in waves.

I throw down my gardening gloves and newly-purchased pointy shovel. I stomp in my mud-caked garden shoes as I chase my children down the middle of the street.

My boys (3 & 1) and a neighbor boy about that age are following Husband down the middle of the road as he rides the wiggle car down the hill.

They'd follow him off a cliff - and that's exactly what I'm afraid of and why I'm so triggered by his irresponsible behavior.

We don't live on a high traffic street - but there are certainly plenty of cars coming and going through the neighborhood. There's a bend in the road just above them and an intersection (to a busy road) just below them. Since Husband is nearly a football field ahead of them, if a car came there's nothing he could do. Just pray that the driver sees these tiny kids on tricycles as the sun goes down.

I am pissed. So mad. So so SO mad. What kind of idiot does something so reckless? How am I supposed to trust this man with my children?!?!?!

Distraction. Distraction. Take care of my kids. Get them back on the sidewalk and attempt to explain that Daddy is a jackass and they should never follow him. Anywhere. Ever!!!

Terrified. I am terrified.

Distraction: "Let's go up the hill Bud, I'll show you how to pedal. See how the sidewalk is white and the road is black? When you're little you need to stay on the WHITE sidewalk because big cars can't see you. Do we ride in the road?" It's probably better that he's riding in the road, maybe he'll get hit by a car and ....

I'm mad. And disappointed. How could he? Doesn't he love our children?

Distraction: Weeds. There are so so many weeds.

I start pulling weeds, yanking their ugly roots out and glaring at them as I throw them in the discard pile. I ignore the thorns sticking through my pink trimmed leather gloves and pull and pull and pull.

Husband eventually takes the kids inside to bed leaving me to weed.

I shovel and dig and pull and tear out grass and weeds and trim back the ridiculously overgrown lavender bushes. I prepare the ground to grow something beautiful and wish I had a friend to chat with while we weeded together. A nice pleasant adult conversation that isn't so emotionally intense sounds like just the right distraction right now.

But I am alone. And I can focus on the weeds.What a beautiful distraction.