* When I say you I do mean me *
you find yourself inwardly criticizing the good folks at Wal-Mart and their choice of clothing attire only to realize your hair is pulled back from your morning face wash, you are without makeup, wearing glasses, and yes, wearing a yellow animal print blouse, (however subtle the yellow animal print may be). And your bra is showing. You are rightful ashamed.
eating salad is surprisingly dangerous, how the vinaigrette can splash up and sting your eyes and all. (Clearly you are the only one who has ever had that happen to them in the history of salad eating).
opening the dressing room door is surprisingly dangerous, how the door can hit your toe so hard you think you’re going to pass out and knowing you only have yourself to blame.
you make a point to instruct the kids about opening their doors ever-so-careful-so-as-not-to-hit-the-cars-parked-next-to-you…only to proceed and hit the car next to you.
All that’s left to do is laugh!
* when I say you I do mean me *
you idiotically drop a crate on your toe and seriously question your lack of coordination being that you do things like this on a regular basis.
you wonder if wiping pee off of toilet seats is a job all mom’s of boys do upon the hour.
you’re a little too irritated to be in the same room as your husband so you make a point to sulk somewhere all the while you really want to sit next to him so he can “see” that you’re giving him the silent treatment and maybe, just maybe you’ll open up about what’s bothering you. Oh the joys of being a woman.
you need to plop your-sorry-self in front of a computer screen to read about the beauty/agony/sacrifice/glory of motherhood so you can get up and mother your own little ones with more joy and less weariness.
you realize your life is pretty sweet and the hiccups are just that, little and inconsequential compared to the gift of being a wife and mother.
Wishing everyday-gifts this week will be abundant & apparent for you!
My shoulders ached. My blood pressure certainly was high.
I had just finished doing a baking project with my children.
For some reason, each of my boys took turns throwing a mini-temper tantrum while the other child was happily taking his turn to help.
Devin filmed some of our cooking because he wanted to make our own cooking show & not too far into the “recording” I was thinking there’s no way we can show this awfulness to anyone. Unless of course we had our own reality show, you know, the dysfunctional kind?
On a brighter note, here are a few things I’ve learned from my cooking adventures with little kids:
1. Having the finished product result in edible adult food may be too lofty a notion.
2. If cooking with more than 2 helpers & they start acting up, consider having them help separately while the others are playing.
3. If kids are real young you could have the ingredients already measured out in cups & bowls that way they’ll only have to pour & stir when you tell them too. * You can still teach them about quantities by pointing out what 2 cups of flour or 1 tablespoon of vanilla look like.
Now hopefully none of this will apply to you because you have cherub-chefs for children.
If this does apply; don’t forget to breathe.
I take out a mop to clean up a small juice spill that my son made only to set the mop down & have it knock over a box which knocks over a much bigger cup of juice. I have got to be one of the most clumsy people around, at least that I know.
If there’s someone out there that’s clumsier than I am we really shouldn’t be friends, it’d be downright dangerous.
If you’re well coordinated & can’t relate be glad about it & if you can then I feel your pain. Especially when I stub my toe, whack my head, drop or break something, jump up to check on a hurt child in such a way that I hurt myself. It’s painful to be me sometimes.
Here’s to being more graceful this year! I’m sure you already are. : )
Preston is at this age, 18 months to be exact, where he wants to run towards moving vehicles to wave at them. Pretty scary. So after attempting to teach him a safety lesson by pretending that I was a moving car & showing him how to quickly go to the side of the road & him not responding as I had hoped, Devin who was nearby watching everything yells out “Congratulations Preston! You just died on your first level!”.
I took it a little personally since I was the instructor. Oh well, better luck on the next level…and I think I’ll also wear a box next time for good measure.
Happy Monday to you!