I hate being angry. I just have the most terrible time controlling my anger. I remember when I was young I never had any trouble controlling my anger or any other emotion. Except for giggling between the ages 9 and 14, in church, in sacrament meeting or any other serious place, always with my best friend Jennifer Fanara. Oh, I feel for my mother! Anyway, about the anger. The problem with my anger is that it is almost always a result of me not being able to control a situation (always including my three wild boys) and I'm not able to escape to calm down. That's my problem. There is never an escape. I'm alone, in or out of my apartment, and I can't ditch my kids anywhere and calm down. Not even my bedroom. At least at my house in the states I could hide in my bathroom and take deep breaths for a few minutes. But here I can't go anywhere and my husband is at work of course, which I'm not complaining about. I don't want him to be home all the time to save me from my anger. If he were, we'd be starving and homeless. There is no easy solution. I'm just venting. (exhale).
Today Sherman ran home from school by himself. We live on the same block that their school is on. I was getting the other kids out the door of the school and Shermy took off running and he didn't stop. I sent Atticus after him to tell him to wait and that he was in trouble because I have set a rule that he needs to be able to see me when we're outside. Atticus came back and said that he couldn't see him anywhere. I wasn't worried. There weren't any streets he had to cross and the way home is actually very safe if he stays on the sidewalk. My main concern is having to deal with the Turkish people. Don't get me wrong, they're great people. It's just that I knew I would have to endure the stares of all the people walking on the street that Shermy had run by. "What is this kid doing running by himself?", "Where is his mom?", "I make my children hold my hand whenever we're outside", "I wonder if this kid is lost." So I make the decision to walk calmly home with my two other children next to me. (What am I supposed to do? Ditch my two others and run after the naughty one that I know is probably safe anyway?) When I get to the gate outside of my apartment building there is a small crowd of 5 or 6 people looking my way. All this time Shermy is screaming happily as he jumps in and out of rain puddles with the security gaurd.I already know what's coming. I will be judged. Again. And for the first time, I returned their chastisement with rudeness. One lady moved her arm around in the air referring to the possible dangers of the world and said, "Is this child yours? Don't you know it's dangerous out here on the street? Why are you letting him run by himself? " but made me feel "Are you stupid?" To which embarrassingly enough I responded to her with "I understand" but really expressed your equivalent of "Yeah, yeah, yeah, lady. I understand everything. Don't tell me what to do." I felt bad the moment it came out. I don't know how old I look to people, but I still feel young and I still feel it my duty to respect my elders, and I know she was at least a few decades older than me. Bla bla bla bla bla. And so on. So now you know to bring leashes for your kids if you're travelling to Istanbul.
And the moral of the story is "Don't talk back to older foreign ladies who are waving their arms at you about your children. You'll feel bad whatever you say.
I was really planning on telling you about my first experience at a Turkish hair salon. I guess I'll have to do that another day. Iyi aksamlar!