My Lil Rebel – What A Brat

I’m having one of those days. I got up this morning to see something that set me off into a mood.

It was like a starting gun fired except instead of the reverberating “KA-POW” being heard, it was a very silent, “Let the pouting begin.” As the morning carried on, I worked my way into wanting to throw a full fledged temper tantrum. I’m talking bucket tears, flailing limbs, holding my breath until I turn blue tantrum. I wanted to rebel. Completely. Lash out. Run away. Poor me. Under appreciated, unnoticed, gettin’ no respect… would anyone ever miss me anyway?…..

Now, the sane, intellectual part of me recognizes the fact that I am being an irrational brat. It keeps trying to regain composure. Comes up with excuses to force this childish spirit into oblivion – PMS, low blood sugar, too much spicy food last night… anything to dilute the existence of my inner two year old. Mostly unsuccessfully. Inside my head this little rebel sparred on and on with the person I’ve come to believe I’ve grown to be.

Ever have crazy bratty moments like that? Come on. Someone else admit to it!

Are you wondering what could possibly set me into such a mood? You’ve got to promise not to laugh. The reason is {mumble mumble} Hubby left his empty hangers laying out. One on a side table, the other on the floor.

You’re laughing, aren’t you. No? Then stop rolling your eyes. Yes. I am very aware this is actually nothing to stress about. Well, the grown up part of me knows.

I could excuse  my attitude away by trying to explain that this said area is the room where I focused my efforts last week. That I saw not the hangers but a red flag planted firmly into the land of a realm where my efforts are not only disrespected, but in fact unnoticed. In reality, I was stuck being a self-centered little brat that was not able to grasp  any other explanation for his actions.

Now, I know Hubster fairly well after 15 plus years together. He was gone before I woke this morning.  He may have been running late and haphazardly hurried out the door. He may not have slept well and been groggier than normal this morning, going messily through the motions as he got dressed.  Regardless of what the actual reason is, I’m sure it had nothing to do with me nor his attitude toward me or our home.

As for the downward spiral into full fledged tantrum, I intellectually know that is nothing  more than a few misplaced negative thoughts that snowballed as other things were remembered or noticed throughout the morning. The snowball and my mind racing faster and faster as the negative thoughts accumulated. Making the snowball larger and larger still. Again finding thoughtlessness in my husband and kids that (hopefully) is not really there.

So what’s a girl to do when in spite of rational thought you can’t shake off this defeating mood?

First,  acknowledge there is a part of each of us that IS a brat. Then make it work FOR us.

It will actually help a lot around the house.  AND with your relationships.

One of the first books that really got through to me the idea that I was using systems in the home vs. keeping up with lots of random tips was  Sidetracked Home Executives(TM): From Pigpen to Paradise(aff.) by Pam and Peggy Young. I was introduced to their theory that each of us has an inner brat. A child that has never grown up and demands attention a bit from time to time. They even recommended that we name them. Mine is ‘Lil Rebel’.

I forget about that theory until moments like these, but it helped me recognize and solve a lot of things that kept me a mess, literally and figuratively, in my twenties.

When I used to do laundry, I would go to the machines and would always have cold wrinkled clothes in the dryer and a getting-stinky-moldy quick load in the washer.

Now, when you are trying to make a home for the first time, you are fairly likely to come across numerous examples like this all around your house. It can convince you that you are incapable, incompetent, dysfunctional, abnormal, insert other self degrading adjective here… BUT! When you acknowledge an inner brat, you can declare it an inexplicable situation and work it.

Every time I walked by the laundry room, I knew it was there needing to be done, and just. kept. walking. Later. Procrastinate. Procrastinate. Finally get to a point when I was out of underwear or something and dealt with it only to find the clothes and machines as described and commence to beat myself up emotionally. Then a laundry marathon would begin until I’d get too tired to deal with the last loads and the cycle would begin again.

Once  I discovered the brat theory, I determined my inner brat saw all of that as too much work. It wasn’t any failing of MINE, it was my inner brat throwing a fit. Giving my twenty something self the gift of that excuse was VERY freeing. I didn’t need to psychoanalyze myself to come up with a cause. I didn’t have to blame my parents for not teaching my any better. I didn’t have to settle for the idea that this was as good as I was going to get. I didn’t give up.

I began doing laundry sprints instead of marathons. I did a bit of laundry every day. My inner brat could handle that. She had the stamina and attention span.

The moral of the story.

The whole thing sounds schizophrenic, doesn’t it. At first I guess this kind of thinking feels a little  schizophrenic. All I know is that once I’d heard about the theory, whenever a negative thought about myself would come to mind, I would suddenly stop and try to figure out what it was my brat was unable to handle. Once I’d started paying attention to her, she and the negative thoughts became quiet. Both the emotional and physical messes started disappearing.

Maybe you don’t buy the idea of a tantrum throwing kiddo running around your brain causing you grief.  I still have a story that may help you understand why this theory works anyway.

An old Cherokee told his grandson, “My son, there’s a battle between two wolves inside us all. One is Evil. It’s anger, jealousy, greed, resentment, inferiority, lies, and ego. The other is Good. It’s joy, peace, love, hope, humility, kindness, empathy, and truth. The grandson thought about it and then asked his grandfather, “Which wolf wins?” The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one you feed.” — Cherokee folktale

Next time, I want to talk about how getting to know Lil’ Rebel made a huge difference in my relationships. Until then, chew on the Brat Theory a bit and see if you discover one in your house, too.