Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Just A Thought...


So I was compiling a mental list the other day out of lil inspirational things I have said, done or left for my children.  Then I realized I was remotely funny as a parent.
I’m strangely patient {grown with time}
I’m oddly tolerant {forced due to losing too many battles}
and yet unusually optimistic {because I don’t know any better}
I raise my children with important points such as:
Telling them to suck it up and be a man.
When they say thats not fair I respond with Most of life isnt.  Its better you get used to it now.
When the lil ones are awful, I set the clocks ahead and fake bedtime.
When the older ones are awful …well, I haven’t figured all of that out just yet.
I color coordinate their chore chart only to return home to it erased and lil love notes left from them {hoping I won’t notice they didn’t do their chores}
Even my calendar has a sweet sentiment:  “Do not touch under penalty of death”
The front door sign serves as a reminder of the type of protector I am.  “Absolutely NO solicitors.  Violators will be thrown to the dogs.  Thank you.”
Sure I breed sarcasm and wicked dry senses of humor, but hey, they will be prepared for the world yes?  I’m at that point of child rearing where I’m questioning if I’ve done anything right.

I told Po the other day that I honestly had more time to myself when all 6 of my babies were actual babies.  I did, honest to goodness.
This thought frustrated me as children knocked and entered “BOTH” doors to my bedroom.
Then I had that lil whisper, the epiphany… Most teenagers don’t want to hang out with their Mama.  So I smiled {through gritted teeth maybe} Hey, I’m lucky my teens want to spend time with me….ALL.THE.TIME…. {I just don’t always feel lucky..snicker}
I’ve left notes for tests, and lunches and just because.  I’ve come home to pictures drawn on our large foggy kitchen window that tell me they love me when I come home late from work.
Sometimes I have window crayon murals of our unruly family.
{Sorry Bailey they always give you perfectly huge bouffant hair}
They never leave without telling me they love me and they never stay mad.  They can’t.  I’m too funny.  Or I start playing with their hair. Or tell them that they’re beautiful today 
{because they are}.
For mother’s day I received pictures; actual thought out, heartfelt, drawings and letters, not just from my lil men but from my teenage girls.  They have learned creativity, expressing their thoughts through art and the simplicity of love.
From me.
Hey wait, I did do that. {wink}  Maybe something is successful after all.
I resent work in strange ways.  I hate that I love it.  I hate that I eat up the challenge and the rush of high volume.  I hate that I’m not with my babies before and after school.  I’m scared that even though their older I’m missing too much.  I hate that I’m tired when I get home.
But maybe, I hate more that I wasn’t able to pull off the working from home this time.  Maybe I hate that I wasn’t successful enough to set an example of discipline and accomplishment.  Sure, I made the hard decision to go back to work outside the home.  I sucked it up in order to help financially but at what cost?
Okay, back to the track I was on.
I have amazing children.
I’m a funny sorta mom.
I ache for them constantly.
The end.
I guess I just needed to get that off my chest.  Meanwhile, I’m working on a new line for the shop and attempting to get the books going again
I guess you just never know until you try.
Again.
And again.
And again.
I hope, that in the end, {that sounds so death-like} that’s what they remember.  {Not the death thing.  Snicker} But the trying over and over again.  And the love, even if they are displayed in silly threatening notes or phrases.
Thanks for listening {wink}
loves,
Pidg


3 comments:

  1. You are the most amazing Mom I have ever known!
    I always remember "eyes".

    ReplyDelete
  2. So I keep pleading with you for this, but I will ask yet again:
    Please Oh Please can you be my Momma!?!
    Love you...to pieces!

    ReplyDelete
  3. My word verification for that last comment was so COOL:
    mrgita 21

    As in: "I want a mrgita (slurred way of saying margarita). Yes I am WAY OVER 21, you dork!"

    ReplyDelete

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