Like most meltdowns, this one seemed to come out of nowhere. I'd decided to make pancakes for the kids yesterday morning. Jack had just gotten back from an early hockey practice and both kids were hungry. I fired up the stove and started cooking.
Unfortunately our exhaust fan has been broken for months and we have yet to replace it. So every time we create the smallest amount of steam or smoke in the kitchen the smoke detector starts buzzing. Of course I'm not tall enough to reach it so I usually resort to waving a towel under it until it stops beeping. This proved to be ineffective yesterday since every time I'd stop waving the towel for more than five seconds the stupid thing would start buzzing again.
At this point I had two pancakes sizzling on the stove that needed my attention, two kids asking for milk and a frantic dog running circles around the kitchen because the piercing shriek of the alarm was upsetting her. I myself felt my blood starting to boil and I started wondering why my husband wasn't coming downstairs to see what was going on. I knew he had to hear the alarm and he's the only one tall enough to reach up and press the button to silence it. As the seconds ticked by I started getting more and more agitated.
Finally I snapped. I screamed "Shut up, SHUT UP!" at the alarm and then swung at it violently with the broom handle. I made contact and the thing made a loud cracking sound and dropped down from the ceiling, hanging by wires. At that moment my husband decided to show up and say "What's going on?" at which point I spluttered something like "I need you to turn this DAMN thing off and by the way, I made you some PANCAKES!" I ran back into the kitchen, turned off the stove, threw the pancakes on a plate and dashed upstairs before anything worse came out of my mouth. At that point I was past the point of reason and I knew I had to retreat.
I got over it within a few minutes. Apologized to my kids for freaking out, admitted sheepishly to my husband that I'd broken the smoke detector, put my tail between my legs and threw my hands up in defeat. I surrender.
Whenever I have a meltdown I'm usually consumed by a desire to accomplish things - perhaps it's my way of trying to set things straight and convince myself that I am still in control of what I do. This resulted in my finishing up the third set of cabinets in the kitchen - a big milestone since now I have completely repainted all the lower cabinets in the kitchen. Now I just have to do the top ones, of which there are twice at many. Gulp. Better get to work.
Today I've been getting things done left and right: making phone calls I've put off, cleaning, organizing, etc, etc. Maybe I should meltdown more often, although this probably would not be good for my blood pressure which is already compromised. I think I'll take this pent up energy and go for a run today while the kids are at piano lessons. That should REALLY make me feel better.
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