The Blame Game

It’s 8:30am, and I am so mad.

If this were a cartoon, steam would be coming from my ears.

I’m storming around my kitchen feeling sorry for myself, angry with the people responsible, directing my perfectly justified feelings at the people most to blame.

If everyone would just do what I tell them to do, none of this would happen.

I could be a happy, delightful mom this morning, but I can’t because they ruined it.

This wasn’t how the morning was supposed to go.

We were supposed to get up, get ready, and get out the door by 8am.

But when I woke them up this morning, instead of jumping out of bed, ready to do my bidding, my kids stayed in their beds and lingered. When I asked them to pack their lunches, they played instead. When they were supposed to get their shoes on, they started reading books.

Now we are late, we have a 90 minute drive ahead of us, and our schedule is off.

Apparently homeschooling has ruined my kids from knowing how to leave the house in a timely manner.

So now I feel awful. I’m grumpily slamming cupboards and snapping at people, trying to finish everything so we can finally get out the door.

I’m blaming my kids for this mess we are in. If they would just listen to me and follow my instructions, life would be rainbows and sunshine and I could be happy.

But right now I am sinking in a cloud of frustration and happiness feels impossible.

Of course it’s not my fault that I’m now falling apart emotionally….

It’s my kids fault.

They are the ones who didn’t follow my well crafted plan.

They are the ones responsible for my current state of mind.

My kids are to blame.

Blame feels so good.

When I blame someone else for how I feel, I don’t have to be responsible.

I can just be a victim to the hand life dealt me.

I use this logic all the time in nearly every scenario.

It’s not my fault I am mad, it’s my kids, who didn’t get in the car on time.

It’s not my fault that I am annoyed, it’s my son, who didn’t listen to me.

It’s not my fault that I’m frustrated, it’s my husband, who didn’t read my mind.

It’s not my fault that I’m stressed, it’s the store clerk, who isn’t doing her job right.

It’s not my fault that I’m overwhelmed, it’s the to do list that never ends.

Sound familiar?

I can see all of the ways that everyone and everything outside of myself is making me miserable and it feels terrible.

Is this the only way to feel on this morning in my kitchen when I’m 30 minutes late for