I’m not afraid to admit it: I can be a real piece of work sometimes.
“Oh, come on!” you might exclaim, utterly shocked. But I promise, I can be the sweetest person you’ll ever meet… until I hit my breaking point.
You know those moments in college when you discover just how many drinks you can handle before losing your lunch? Or in yoga, when the instructor offers the option to attempt a challenging pose or simply relax in child’s pose, and you wisely choose to take a break? We learn our limits over time, and as a parent, I’ve certainly discovered mine.
I like to refer to this threshold as my Maximum B*tch Capacity (MBC). Picture this: I’m at home with my two kids, aged 6 and 8, and they’re engaged in a delightful game of pinching each other until someone screams. In the midst of my attempts to keep the peace, another mom casually asks, “Are you thinking about having more kids?” I can only stare at her in disbelief and reply, “Absolutely not! Two is my Maximum B*tch Capacity!”
Growing up, we’re inundated with advice on how to dress our bodies and even how to find the right partner. But understanding how much chaos we can endure before we snap? That’s a lesson learned through real-life experience. As a mother striving to maintain some semblance of order, I frequently hit my MBC.
I try my best to stay within my limits, but when I do reach that breaking point, it’s not pretty. Just the other day, we were running late for soccer. The shin guards were MIA, the dog needed to be let out, and my kids were waging war over a piece of tin foil left over from their frozen Eggo pancakes, which they hadn’t even eaten yet. They hadn’t peed, brushed their hair, or put on their shoes, and the game was about to start. With all this chaos swirling around me, I finally snapped and yelled, “STOP IT!” so loudly that my voice echoed through the house.
In that moment, they stared at me, completely bewildered—one nursing a “battle wound,” the other looking equally guilty. I yelled until they were so annoyed with each other that they made up in unison. Then I turned my frustration on my husband for not helping out more. By the time we were en route to the soccer field, the car was silent, and my throat was sore. That’s the kind of mom I can be, just trying to get everyone out the door.
I often feel guilty that my limits seem less than impressive. I watch other moms juggle their families, careers, and social lives with ease. They’re PTA presidents, soccer coaches, and seem to have everything under control. I find myself thinking, “Their Maximum B*tch Capacity must be through the roof!”
It’s easy to feel inadequate. Just the other day, I remarked to a friend, “How do you manage three kids and a full-time job without ever raising your voice?” I’m in awe of how she organizes their lives, manages school events, and keeps everything running smoothly. But then she reminded me that she has a full-time nanny and supportive in-laws to help out.
While it’s clear she has a greater capacity for handling chaos, she also has more support to share the load. I don’t have a nanny or family nearby to lighten the burden. My husband is wonderful, but the daily grind usually falls on me.
Still, I wonder, should I strive for more? Should I volunteer more or engage with my kids on a deeper level? Perhaps I need to take a breather. One parenting article suggested I give myself a “time out,” which sounds nice in theory, but in reality, my kids might end up fighting to the death while I’m in my room trying to chill.
My husband uses an app called Headspace for meditation and thinks I should give it a shot. I guess I should try something new, considering my idea of relaxation often involves binge-watching reality TV and feeling grateful that I’m not as chaotic as the characters on screen.
I can’t be the only mom who checks to ensure the windows are shut so the entire neighborhood doesn’t hear my meltdowns. We’re all just doing our best in this parenting journey. At the end of the day, I know I’m a loving and dedicated mother. My house is tidy enough, my kids are happy and empathetic—but when I reach my MBC, letting that inner “bitch” out is how I cope. Clearly, I’m still working on embracing my limits. For now, I think I’ll take a moment to relax in child’s pose.