A Musing Mother 6

Laura showed up at my house requesting books to read. I dragged her through my entire house, looking through my stacks until she had my very favorite books. She's a big reader and mentioned she would be having free time soon. "Their dad got his own place and the kids are spending the WHOLE weekend and leaving me all by myself!" she delightedly informed me. "Is that the same weekend I am leaving for Hawaii?" I asked. "I mean, since you won't have your kids, you could drive us to the airport!" I tried to use my best cheerleader voice to make it sound enticing. "What day and time?" "Sunday morning. We need to leave the house by 4:30. In the morning." She cackled wickedly and ran out of my house. With my books. Strike one. At work I passed the assistant principal's office, a really nice guy. How nice? "Hey Tim! Do you want to take my husband and I to the airport on Sunday?" He looked up with his usual smile. "Woul

Even though I work, I still feel the pressure to perform traditional homemaking chores. I feel guilty when Scott cleans the kitchen (which he does every night) or sweeps and mops the floor (which he does every week). Somehow I feel like I am a failure as a wife and mother when I realize I don't remember the last time I dusted the piano or the blinds have penciled art on it and I couldn't tell you if it happened yesterday or last spring. When I mentioned my guilt to my husband, he responded, "I just feel guilty that you have to work." Ah. That's the funny thing. We don't know that I have to work. We've never tried it. I think we could but then my trips to Costco would be limited. Also, finding an identity outside the home provides me with a respite from my guilty conscience every day. My children are not perfect and my house is not perfectly clean so I am not a perfect mother or homemaker. But I am a competent educator who works hard for those hours I am in

I found a great list of simple blogging tips on Casual Blogger.  I have a few to add. More like blogging faux pas. What not to post on your blog. These are all hypothetical blogging opportunities. Pictures of your sons peeing in the toilet at the same time. Cutest and best picture of all time. If you do post it, don't tell your sons. Ever. Your daughter's first kiss. Especially if your husband tells you specifically  it would be bad form. Where you found your first gray hair. That when your husband suggested Maui for your 20th anniversary, you went to a tanning joint because you didn't want to be sunburned and carefully only scheduled it for 7 minutes, laid down, then scooted further down and your butt and back created a vacuum with a horrible sucking noise when lifted. When you realized your son hadn't gone to the bathroom before going to bed and you got him up to go, he was so disoriented that he took off towards the bathroom but then disappeared. You found him standi

I thought it was my parenting skills or lack thereof but I think it's more widespread than just my poor parenting skills. It's a family dynamic that somehow keeps everything else in and out of balance. The symbiosis of parent/child relationship, particularly in the high strung. It's true that every child is unique and needs more attention at one time or another, but there seems to be a preponderance of families that have one particular child that the other members of the family orbit. The one that dictates whether there will be peace or war. The child that holds the delicate balance within his or her hands and can crush or delight parental spirits and family bonding. I've long maintained that there is, in nearly every family, one black sheep. If you don't know who it is, it is probably you. I will continue this litany because it makes me laugh when defenses arise, fingers point, and finally hands come up in surrender. But I think the truth is more complex than this.

"Hey dad! You shaved! You look like a baby with a smooth face...except for all that grey hair." "Get out and go to school son."

I am asked the ages of my children. I tell them my oldest is sixteen and they give their condolences. I laugh at them because they don't know. This is the girl the other kids gravitate to because she is that wonderful. She's the kid that stays up late on my bed with me working on a crossword puzzle and laughing when her dad tries to casually kick me in a hint that he is trying to sleep. She's the kid who sat at the counter doing her precalculus while I talked to my spices during an organization spree. She "gets" it when I pick up a bottle and asks it, "Now where do you go?" Contrary to this expression on her brother's face, they are best friends. She has a lot of those best friends. And a few fans, too. If I could, I would tell you how to raise them this good but it has nothing to do with me or my parenting skills. I take that back. It is probably her excellent coping skills to her mother that talks to her spices. It's just the way she is.