How to NOT Lose Your Shit When You Really Want to Lose Your Shit.

As a mother to six, people often stop me in the middle of the grocery store to ask me how I do it. It’s frequently awkward because being the introvert that I am, I am often at a loss for words. In addition, in that moment, all I can think of is the ten instances where I most definitely did NOT “do it”.

Having a brood certainly doesn’t automatically grant me expert status. That said, it does seem that I have been in perpetual negotiation mode for the last decade. For the last ten years, I have not NOT had a baby, a toddler, and an older child. Juggling responsibilities that keep these hellions alive is…challenging. More often than not, I want to scream. I do scream. In the closet. I would drink wine since that is what all the cool kids do but I don’t, so I have to find ways to deal when there isn’t a closet nearby.

Breathe. When I begin feeling my blood pressure rise or my cheeks blush because my three year old has decided that story time is the perfect time to run around doing her best impersonation of Silver Banshee, I breathe. In and out. Then, I proceed to discipline in the way the makes the most sense. Sometimes though, I need extra breaths because calling her an asshole is frowned upon and my other kids were actually into the latest SkippyJon Jones so leaving isn’t an option. I breathe in and tell myself that she is actually a very decisive angel.

Social media. Yep. Unabashedly. I go to my favorite group to vent and/or ask for specific advice. Just having commiseration is pacifying. Also, Facebook and Grumpy Cat memes are great sources of escapism. I throw some crayons, Ufix cubes, or clay at the kids and delve into the “Trending” section. I especially love threads that make fun of number 45 and make me consider what the hell Trump’s mother did when she had to deal with an utter monster.

Help. Get help. I ask my partner, my other relatives, and friends for explicit assistance. Thankfully, parenting duties are equally distributed in our house, but I admit, my threshold for anxiety-inducing situations is a lot lower. If I know that I won’t be able to handle something, I don’t even try. I would rather be honest with myself than create a torturous experience for everyone involved.

Treat Yo’ Self. Self-care is the pinnacle example of ways to deal. If I feel especially stressed or tired, I shop online with no scruples or else take a wonderfully burning bath filled to the rim with my fave Lush bath bomb. Even though it isn’t in the moment, just knowing that I have that option after bedtime is enough to make me feel relaxed so that I can return to the present and parent calmly.

For the most part, these work. And if they don’t, well, I lose my shit. Hey, we are human-it’s part of the experience.