I thought I had finally gotten our schedule straight.
This week was going to be a little busier so I wrote everything down: Football practice Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday from 5:45-8:00; Cheerleading Monday and Tuesday from 6:00-8:00, Cheerleading Wednesday from 6:00 to 7:30; Haircuts for me and my daughter on Thursday at 6:30; Half day of school on Friday for kids; Stitching class for Mom, Sister and I on Saturday; Casino lunch Saturday afteroon with Mom, Sis and Hubby; nothing Sunday.
Rots of Ruck.
Being a little obsessive compulsive, a schedule reduces my anxiety about upcoming events. Anything that diverts from that schedule gives me a meltdown.
But this week would be different. Everything was in black and white.
I checked my Haircut appointment to make sure I had the date correct. I didn't. It was scheduled on Wednesday night instead of Thursday. No problem. I'll change it. Whoops! Forgot about curriculum night at school. What night was that? Oh yeah!
Wednesday night! There will be three sessions to make it easier on us. I figure I can drop daughter off at cheerleading at 6:00, make it to two sessions, and be back in time to pick her up, if in fact cheerleading actually DOES end at 7:30. Last night I arrived early, or so I thought, at 7:55 when practice finished at 8:00 only to find my daughter waiting there with one of the coaches telling me I was late. When did that schedule change?
But I digress.
OK. I've got Wednesday night figured out. My anxiety level is just slightly elevated.
Thursday, hopefully, there will be no changes.
My mom was coming over on Friday to get the kids off the bus since it will be a half-day. Great! Oh, wait a minute! Daughter was just invited to a friend's birthday bowling party in the afternoon. No Problem! I'll go get her at school at 12:15 during my lunch break, bring her back to her friend's house (which, conveniently is right across the street from my office), and get back to work by 1:00. I'll pick her up after work and go home.
Uh oh. I forgot. I have a doctor's appointment at 4:45. I have to call the friend's mother and see if she can watch her until around 6:00 when I can pick her up. It's way out of the way, but I'm grateful she is so welcome.
OK. Friday solved (except for son; I have to figure out who will get him off the bus after half-day dismissal).
Phew!
Saturday; no problem! Daughter's cheerleading was originally scheduled for Saturday morning so hubby could have taken her there while I'm stitching with Mom and Sis. I found out soon enough (2 days before) that it was changed to 6:00 Saturday night.
No sweat.
Hubby can come with us to the casino for lunch while Sweet Niece watches our kids. We can be back in time for daughter's game.
Wait a minute.
Hubby just told me that son's football game is Saturday at 12:30. We were originally planning on getting to the casino around 1:00 so we could catch the lunch buffet. Oh well. We'll have to wait for son's game to end before we can go. My husband feels bad, though, because daughter would miss her game. I completely understand. You can't go to son's game and blow off daughter's.
There is no solution thus far to this puzzle. I'll push it aside for now.
At least we can have a family day on Sunday.
Not so fast.
"I leave on Sunday", hubby said.
Me: Where are you going?
Him: Remember? I'm going to North Carolina for work.
Me: But that's not until October!
Him: No. It's Sunday.
Me: But I thought it was October 22nd or something. You told me it changed from September to October!
Him: No I didn't. I have the itinerary right here.
Me: (looking at the itinerary) Oh.
Him: That's why I kept asking you to see if your mom could get the kids off the bus on Monday and Tuesday.
Me: I haven't asked her yet because October 22nd was too far away.
Him: It's not October. It's next week.
Me: Oh. So what are we going to do?
Him: Call your mother and see if she can get the kids off the bus!
Me: She's going to yell at me because I ALWAYS wait until the last minute. Only this ISN'T THE LAST MINUTE!
Him: (silence)
Several minutes later:
Me: Hi mom!
Mom: Hello. What's up?
I explain the situation to her.
Mom: I can do it, but why do you always wait until the last minute????
OK; back to Sunday. I have a great plan. Sweet niece can stay overnight on Saturday. On Sunday morning we can go back to Mom's, have a nice breakfast and spend time with Sis and Sweet Niece. Sissy will probably leave around noon, and I'll be able to get hubby to the airport in time.
At least next week will be easier. Everything is written down on our calendar so there won't be any more conflicts.
Yeah, right.....
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Hey Dude . . . Where's my Brain?
I swear I spend at least 50% of my life looking for things.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not a slob. Actually, I'm a bit obsessive about organization. The problem is, I have no time to organize anything. When I do, I do such a good job that I still can't find anything.
Last fall I spent weeks painting the inside of my garage. I threw away a LOT of stuff, even duplicates of shovels and rakes, etc. I then bought some nice wall mount cabinets designed specifically for garage storage. It was so exciting! I was able to fit all the dog stuff on one shelf. The bottom cabinets held all of our car stuff. Another held all of our gardening stuff. Extra laundry soap went in another and soda and water went in still another one.
I also bought slatwalls to hold hooks for all of our normal garage stuff. The rakes and shovels had their own hooks. Garden hoses hung on special brackets on the slatwall. Another section held all of our household cleaning implements such as brooms and mops. I even bought bicycle lifts so that our bicycles could be hoisted up towards the ceiling when not in use. My goal was not to have anything actually on the garage floor.
For my husband, I mounted a paper towel holder on the wall near his car door so he could reach them when necessary. For the kids, I bought baskets that hung on the slatwall for all of their outside toys and sports paraphernalia.
When my project was complete, the neighbors would drool when they saw the inside of our garage. My friend across the street, who also works full time and has two kids, hates me. Her husband is a neat freak and asked her why she couldn't do something like that with THEIR garage. Whoops.
Anyway, I felt such a sense of accomplishment. Everything I needed was within reach. All of the clutter was gone, replaced by necessary items all in their places. Could I be any closer to heaven?
Soon, the euphoria ended. Little by little the garage seemed to have a mind of it's own. The kids would get their bikes and park them near the back of the garage until they used them again. Extra 'stuff' would end up on the floor on either side of the garage like toys, papers, and anything that fell out of the car when the door was opened. Little by little, the space between the two cars, which had been empty not long before, starting accumulating boxes and more stuff so we had to walk carefully around it to get to the car.
Worst of all, I can't find a damned thing.
Where's the extra laundry detergent? Don't know.
Is the bee spray in the cabinet? Nope.
Do we still have a swiffer? No. Can't find it.
Where's the cooler? No idea.
You said there was tons of soda for our party. Where is it? Not in the garage.
The whole organization thing is a scam. If it seems too good to be true, it probably doesn't exist.
I wanted to clean the garage again this fall and get it back to the way it was.
Unfortunately, there's no place to put all of our stuff.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not a slob. Actually, I'm a bit obsessive about organization. The problem is, I have no time to organize anything. When I do, I do such a good job that I still can't find anything.
Last fall I spent weeks painting the inside of my garage. I threw away a LOT of stuff, even duplicates of shovels and rakes, etc. I then bought some nice wall mount cabinets designed specifically for garage storage. It was so exciting! I was able to fit all the dog stuff on one shelf. The bottom cabinets held all of our car stuff. Another held all of our gardening stuff. Extra laundry soap went in another and soda and water went in still another one.
I also bought slatwalls to hold hooks for all of our normal garage stuff. The rakes and shovels had their own hooks. Garden hoses hung on special brackets on the slatwall. Another section held all of our household cleaning implements such as brooms and mops. I even bought bicycle lifts so that our bicycles could be hoisted up towards the ceiling when not in use. My goal was not to have anything actually on the garage floor.
For my husband, I mounted a paper towel holder on the wall near his car door so he could reach them when necessary. For the kids, I bought baskets that hung on the slatwall for all of their outside toys and sports paraphernalia.
When my project was complete, the neighbors would drool when they saw the inside of our garage. My friend across the street, who also works full time and has two kids, hates me. Her husband is a neat freak and asked her why she couldn't do something like that with THEIR garage. Whoops.
Anyway, I felt such a sense of accomplishment. Everything I needed was within reach. All of the clutter was gone, replaced by necessary items all in their places. Could I be any closer to heaven?
Soon, the euphoria ended. Little by little the garage seemed to have a mind of it's own. The kids would get their bikes and park them near the back of the garage until they used them again. Extra 'stuff' would end up on the floor on either side of the garage like toys, papers, and anything that fell out of the car when the door was opened. Little by little, the space between the two cars, which had been empty not long before, starting accumulating boxes and more stuff so we had to walk carefully around it to get to the car.
Worst of all, I can't find a damned thing.
Where's the extra laundry detergent? Don't know.
Is the bee spray in the cabinet? Nope.
Do we still have a swiffer? No. Can't find it.
Where's the cooler? No idea.
You said there was tons of soda for our party. Where is it? Not in the garage.
The whole organization thing is a scam. If it seems too good to be true, it probably doesn't exist.
I wanted to clean the garage again this fall and get it back to the way it was.
Unfortunately, there's no place to put all of our stuff.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Choices
I've repeatedly heard the question posed to children, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I remember thinking about this when I was a child and I had no idea what I wanted to be. Even up to my junior year of high school I didn't have a clue. I went to my guidance counselor when I was a senior. She asked me what interests or hobbies I had. Since I had been knitting and crocheting since I was a child I told her that these were my favorite hobbies. After some thought, she suggested I pursue the study of textile science at an Ivy League University nearby. Since that seemed to make sense, I chose to go that route.
In order to save money I went to our local community college for two years. Then I transferred to the University. During my first semester I realized that this was not the route I wanted to take. This major involved quite a bit of biochemistry which was not my forte. I then made a choice to change majors.
Eventually, I studied Human/Environment Analysis which involved designing environments for people with different needs such as the elderly or disabled. In the meantime I also studied Industrial and Labor Relations. I felt myself moving into territory that was foreign to me. Most of these students eventually climbed the ladder of success in big cities. It was here that I met someone who had those ambitions and wanted to succeed at any cost.
He was a year behind me and, after I graduated, he urged me to pursue my MBA since, if we were to be married, he wanted his wife to carry a briefcase to work. In my naivete I went ahead and took the Graduate Management Test. Here I was, a simple girl from a simple family whose parents worked within walking distance of our home. I loved my home and friends and I wasn't comfortable with the idea of living in New York City. It was then that my boyfriend told me that he wanted to marry me, but I would have to understand that I would never be #1 in his life; his career would be. That's when I chose to stay in my hometown even if I had to work in a fast food place. It was a choice that, to this day, was one of the wisest I've ever made.
After working in a personnel office for two years I decided that, since I still lived home, I wanted to go back to school and get a degree in Electronic Technology. It was something that always fascinated me and it was the right time to pursue it.
I studied very hard to succeed at it and to forget the earlier years. I never regretted leaving him, but the future was an open book that terrified me.
After graduating with my degree, I landed a job at a copier repair company. The job came with a company car, and my new boss sent another employee to pick me up since I would get my car later that day.
Imagine my surprise when a former schoolmate of mine pulled into my driveway. We had gone to elementary and high school together He lived less than two miles away from me all of my life, but by some divine intervention we met again. We became good friends at the company and talked about people we both knew. My mother was his teacher in fourth grade. I remember his little brother in Kindergarten when my mother taught that grade. Here was someone that was down to earth and had his priorities straight. Our friendship grew, and we have now been married almost 16 years.
It's amazing how choices we've made in the past affect us for the rest of our lives. IF I had pursued Textile Science; IF I had foolishly followed what's-his-name to New York City; IF I hadn't gotten my degree in Electronics; IF I hadn't gotten the job at the copier company. Any misstep would have changed the way my life turned out dramatically.
I know that the life that I have now is the one I wanted from the start. I still live in the same area, I married someone who has the same values as I do, and our children are learning those values from us. I can call my mom anytime I want and visit her often since she only lives 20 minutes away. I have a fantastic job that I love. I've had the chance to move up, but this position works perfectly for me.
I realize now, looking back, that the choices we make in our lives, along with fate, determines the course of the rest of our lives.
I have everything I want.
In order to save money I went to our local community college for two years. Then I transferred to the University. During my first semester I realized that this was not the route I wanted to take. This major involved quite a bit of biochemistry which was not my forte. I then made a choice to change majors.
Eventually, I studied Human/Environment Analysis which involved designing environments for people with different needs such as the elderly or disabled. In the meantime I also studied Industrial and Labor Relations. I felt myself moving into territory that was foreign to me. Most of these students eventually climbed the ladder of success in big cities. It was here that I met someone who had those ambitions and wanted to succeed at any cost.
He was a year behind me and, after I graduated, he urged me to pursue my MBA since, if we were to be married, he wanted his wife to carry a briefcase to work. In my naivete I went ahead and took the Graduate Management Test. Here I was, a simple girl from a simple family whose parents worked within walking distance of our home. I loved my home and friends and I wasn't comfortable with the idea of living in New York City. It was then that my boyfriend told me that he wanted to marry me, but I would have to understand that I would never be #1 in his life; his career would be. That's when I chose to stay in my hometown even if I had to work in a fast food place. It was a choice that, to this day, was one of the wisest I've ever made.
After working in a personnel office for two years I decided that, since I still lived home, I wanted to go back to school and get a degree in Electronic Technology. It was something that always fascinated me and it was the right time to pursue it.
I studied very hard to succeed at it and to forget the earlier years. I never regretted leaving him, but the future was an open book that terrified me.
After graduating with my degree, I landed a job at a copier repair company. The job came with a company car, and my new boss sent another employee to pick me up since I would get my car later that day.
Imagine my surprise when a former schoolmate of mine pulled into my driveway. We had gone to elementary and high school together He lived less than two miles away from me all of my life, but by some divine intervention we met again. We became good friends at the company and talked about people we both knew. My mother was his teacher in fourth grade. I remember his little brother in Kindergarten when my mother taught that grade. Here was someone that was down to earth and had his priorities straight. Our friendship grew, and we have now been married almost 16 years.
It's amazing how choices we've made in the past affect us for the rest of our lives. IF I had pursued Textile Science; IF I had foolishly followed what's-his-name to New York City; IF I hadn't gotten my degree in Electronics; IF I hadn't gotten the job at the copier company. Any misstep would have changed the way my life turned out dramatically.
I know that the life that I have now is the one I wanted from the start. I still live in the same area, I married someone who has the same values as I do, and our children are learning those values from us. I can call my mom anytime I want and visit her often since she only lives 20 minutes away. I have a fantastic job that I love. I've had the chance to move up, but this position works perfectly for me.
I realize now, looking back, that the choices we make in our lives, along with fate, determines the course of the rest of our lives.
I have everything I want.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
All Quiet in the Woods
Last weekend, My mom and I went up to camp. Her goal was to clean our old place. This old cabin has been our home away from home all of my life. It's the place where so many memories have been made. However, as our families have grown, we found it to be quite cramped. There are two tiny bedrooms, a miniscule bathroom, a living room and a kitchen. The walls are all made of knotty pine. When my great aunt owned it, she put up some strange things on the walls. There's a circular picture of a West Highland Terrier on one wall. She never owned a West Highland Terrier. There's the typical 'quitcherbellyakin' wooden sign along with usual plaques with blessings and some with smart a** remarks In the living room above the window, there is a red pig walking along with her three small red baby piglets. The strangest thing, however, is the stuffed owl on a corner shelf in the room. That thing has been staring at me all my life. As a child I would get the creeps from it, but we've made peace through the years.
As a result of the small quarters, we have built a new place next door on our vacant lot. It's on the water and will have a lot more room. It's still not finished but my goal last weekend was to finish painting the bedrooms.
I left the children and hubby home since my daughter had to cheerlead for a game and my son had a football game. On Friday night when I left I was so homesick for all of them. I have rarely left them and believed that I would get a lot done without having to worry about playing with them or taking them somewhere. I got what I wanted.
I did not like it.
I have to admit, however, that it was nice to work without interruptions. Having my mom make dinner didn't hurt either. After a few hours on Saturday I was able to enjoy the peace a little more.
There were many reminders of our times together with the kids this summer. In the sand under the deck of the new place there were rocks and plastic still laying there. It is all that remained of the moat and castle they had built. Looking into the lean-to I saw the badminton rackets and birdies that they had left there, remembering the times we got frustrated when the wind would carry the birdies away.
Inside the camp were some of their board games they had played and laughed over on those summer days and evenings. And let's not forgot the small sock my mother found under my bed that belonged to my daughter showing that she's not very neat at camp either.
On Saturday evening I decided to take a break from my painting since I was getting tired and hot. I didn't feel like swimming, so I took off my socks and sneakers and dunked my feet in the lake. Only a week earlier we were jumping off the dock to rinse our hair that was covered in shampoo suds. I remembered the kids playing in the water in the evening as my husband made a fire for s'mores on the shore. The horn on the large dinner cruise boat would honk as it went on it's way.
I think what made me smile the most was when I looked at my bare feet. There was still a little bit of glittery gold nail polish on some of my toes reminding me of the time my daughter and I painted each other's toes in the crowded kitchen.
Even though my husband and kids were not there, I was content just looking around at the evidence of their presence. I know that, soon, we'll all be there together again to make new memories.
As a result of the small quarters, we have built a new place next door on our vacant lot. It's on the water and will have a lot more room. It's still not finished but my goal last weekend was to finish painting the bedrooms.
I left the children and hubby home since my daughter had to cheerlead for a game and my son had a football game. On Friday night when I left I was so homesick for all of them. I have rarely left them and believed that I would get a lot done without having to worry about playing with them or taking them somewhere. I got what I wanted.
I did not like it.
I have to admit, however, that it was nice to work without interruptions. Having my mom make dinner didn't hurt either. After a few hours on Saturday I was able to enjoy the peace a little more.
There were many reminders of our times together with the kids this summer. In the sand under the deck of the new place there were rocks and plastic still laying there. It is all that remained of the moat and castle they had built. Looking into the lean-to I saw the badminton rackets and birdies that they had left there, remembering the times we got frustrated when the wind would carry the birdies away.
Inside the camp were some of their board games they had played and laughed over on those summer days and evenings. And let's not forgot the small sock my mother found under my bed that belonged to my daughter showing that she's not very neat at camp either.
On Saturday evening I decided to take a break from my painting since I was getting tired and hot. I didn't feel like swimming, so I took off my socks and sneakers and dunked my feet in the lake. Only a week earlier we were jumping off the dock to rinse our hair that was covered in shampoo suds. I remembered the kids playing in the water in the evening as my husband made a fire for s'mores on the shore. The horn on the large dinner cruise boat would honk as it went on it's way.
I think what made me smile the most was when I looked at my bare feet. There was still a little bit of glittery gold nail polish on some of my toes reminding me of the time my daughter and I painted each other's toes in the crowded kitchen.
Even though my husband and kids were not there, I was content just looking around at the evidence of their presence. I know that, soon, we'll all be there together again to make new memories.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Fashion challenged
As I wrote earlier, yesterday was the first day of school for my kids. My son doesn't understand the 'first day of school outfit' thing. He just wore basketball shorts and a T-shirt. That was easy enough.
I had bought my daughter a really nice outfit for her first day. The pants were the new knicker style (like capris, only with a band at the bottom). They were a pretty aqua color. For a top, I had bought a gauzy white shirt with aqua and green stars. Of course, it was sparkly too, a requisite for any 7 year old girl's wardrobe.
When I showed her the outfit last week, she loved the top. The pants were another story.
"No offense, Mom," she said, "but I already have a pair of pants that have stars on them too".
"I'm sure you do," I replied, "but those are red and pink. I think the aqua pants will work better since they match the aqua stars on the top".
She pondered my words.
"OK," she said, "I'll wear this today, but I'm using the other pants later".
Mom 1
Daughter 0
I tried not to flinch when she pulled on white knee socks with red flowers that she rolled down to her ankles. I've learned to pick my battles.
Today I figured I'd let her pick her own outfit. "Be afraid", a little voice inside my head warned me.
My fears were justified. She came down the stairs proud as can be. She wore a hot pink skort (skirt shorts) and a peach and brown colored top with a monkey on it that said 'My Brother Drives Me Bananas'.
"Let's go upstairs and brush your teeth!", I said cheerfully, hoping to find a top that matched a little better. As she was brushing her teeth, I went in her room and picked out a light pink top with hot pink flowers.
"Hey, honey," I said excitedly, "How about this top instead? The flowers in it match the skort really well!"
"Mom," she said, pointing to the monkey shirt, "this top matches just fine. See? It's kind of pink too! I'll wear that another time".
"OK", I said, knowing that I had lost that battle.
Downstairs, I asked her to pick out a hair ribbon since I knew she wouldn't like the one I would pick. She picked out a lovely purple and white striped one that I put on her ponytail. After that, she picked out an orange headband and put that on too.
To top it all off, she put on pink knee socks that she rolled down to her ankles again, and her brown and pink sneakers. I'm sure that her teacher will think she is a new last minute student that is color challenged. Gone was the girl with the cute aqua knickers, sparkly shirt and aqua hair bow.
This is all nothing new. Last year she did the same thing. The only rule I have is that she can't wear anything that is too grown up for her. These days the stores are selling clothes for little girls that are duplicates of the clothes for teenagers. So far, I am winning on that rule.
Who know? Maybe someday people will come to realize that mismatched clothes are all the rage and my daughter will be a millionaire...
...but I doubt it.
I had bought my daughter a really nice outfit for her first day. The pants were the new knicker style (like capris, only with a band at the bottom). They were a pretty aqua color. For a top, I had bought a gauzy white shirt with aqua and green stars. Of course, it was sparkly too, a requisite for any 7 year old girl's wardrobe.
When I showed her the outfit last week, she loved the top. The pants were another story.
"No offense, Mom," she said, "but I already have a pair of pants that have stars on them too".
"I'm sure you do," I replied, "but those are red and pink. I think the aqua pants will work better since they match the aqua stars on the top".
She pondered my words.
"OK," she said, "I'll wear this today, but I'm using the other pants later".
Mom 1
Daughter 0
I tried not to flinch when she pulled on white knee socks with red flowers that she rolled down to her ankles. I've learned to pick my battles.
Today I figured I'd let her pick her own outfit. "Be afraid", a little voice inside my head warned me.
My fears were justified. She came down the stairs proud as can be. She wore a hot pink skort (skirt shorts) and a peach and brown colored top with a monkey on it that said 'My Brother Drives Me Bananas'.
"Let's go upstairs and brush your teeth!", I said cheerfully, hoping to find a top that matched a little better. As she was brushing her teeth, I went in her room and picked out a light pink top with hot pink flowers.
"Hey, honey," I said excitedly, "How about this top instead? The flowers in it match the skort really well!"
"Mom," she said, pointing to the monkey shirt, "this top matches just fine. See? It's kind of pink too! I'll wear that another time".
"OK", I said, knowing that I had lost that battle.
Downstairs, I asked her to pick out a hair ribbon since I knew she wouldn't like the one I would pick. She picked out a lovely purple and white striped one that I put on her ponytail. After that, she picked out an orange headband and put that on too.
To top it all off, she put on pink knee socks that she rolled down to her ankles again, and her brown and pink sneakers. I'm sure that her teacher will think she is a new last minute student that is color challenged. Gone was the girl with the cute aqua knickers, sparkly shirt and aqua hair bow.
This is all nothing new. Last year she did the same thing. The only rule I have is that she can't wear anything that is too grown up for her. These days the stores are selling clothes for little girls that are duplicates of the clothes for teenagers. So far, I am winning on that rule.
Who know? Maybe someday people will come to realize that mismatched clothes are all the rage and my daughter will be a millionaire...
...but I doubt it.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Back to School
Here it is. The first day of school again for my kids. Son is in 5th grade and daughter is in 2nd. Hard to believe. I've been thinking of years past and remembered what happened on the last day of 2nd grade for my son. As a mother we all wonder if we're doing a good job with the kids. Do we overreact? Do we underreact? Many times, I've won the 'Mother of the Year' award when I do something stupid. This was one of those times.
A week before school was out, son hurt his leg playing at aftercare. He came home and complained about the pain. I believed him, and told him he couldn’t go to Karate that night. He stayed on the couch for the rest of the evening.
A week later on the last day of aftercare, I picked him up. “Mom,” he said, “I hurt my finger a few minutes ago playing ball. It really hurts!”
Me: (to myself: Yeah, right! That got you out of Karate last week. It won’t work again!)
We got home, and son told hubby the same thing. “Let me look at it”, hubby said. Son showed him his finger. Hubby bent it, making son exclaim, “OW!!! That hurts!
Me: (Oh, please! Dad’s not going to buy into that!)
Dad: Where are the popsicle sticks? We’ll make a splint.
Hubby proceeded to make a splint with popsicle sticks. As he tried to tape it to son's finger, he exclaimed, “OWWW!!! That really hurts!!
Me: (OK. You’re a great actor! I can’t believe Dad’s humoring you!)
Soon after, I had to go somewhere for a while (I don’t remember where). When I got home, hubby said “I’m taking son to Prompt Care to have them check it.”
“OK!” I said cheerfully, “ I’ll see you later!”
What I really wanted to say: OK! I hope the patient with the leg broken in three places doesn’t mind waiting for the doctor to tell you it’s just a little sprain!
I smugly went about my business.
Several hours later, I was watching TV in bed. Hubby and son came into the room.
“What did the doctor say?” I asked, knowing what they would say.
“Well,” hubby said, “Son has a broken pinky”
Silence.
Me: “Oh.”
Otherwise, I am speechless.
Great. If hubby hadn’t intervened, my poor son would be walking around with a crooked pinky for the rest of his life. Once again, my instinctive mothering abilities were WRONG!
I guess parenting is a learning experience. I don't care what anyone says. There is no such thing as maternal instinct. I think, sometimes, that hubby has more maternal instinct than me (yes; I said 'maternal'). He probably won't appreciate me saying that, but thanks to him, our children will be saved from a crazy mother's 'instinctive' parenting.
A week before school was out, son hurt his leg playing at aftercare. He came home and complained about the pain. I believed him, and told him he couldn’t go to Karate that night. He stayed on the couch for the rest of the evening.
A week later on the last day of aftercare, I picked him up. “Mom,” he said, “I hurt my finger a few minutes ago playing ball. It really hurts!”
Me: (to myself: Yeah, right! That got you out of Karate last week. It won’t work again!)
We got home, and son told hubby the same thing. “Let me look at it”, hubby said. Son showed him his finger. Hubby bent it, making son exclaim, “OW!!! That hurts!
Me: (Oh, please! Dad’s not going to buy into that!)
Dad: Where are the popsicle sticks? We’ll make a splint.
Hubby proceeded to make a splint with popsicle sticks. As he tried to tape it to son's finger, he exclaimed, “OWWW!!! That really hurts!!
Me: (OK. You’re a great actor! I can’t believe Dad’s humoring you!)
Soon after, I had to go somewhere for a while (I don’t remember where). When I got home, hubby said “I’m taking son to Prompt Care to have them check it.”
“OK!” I said cheerfully, “ I’ll see you later!”
What I really wanted to say: OK! I hope the patient with the leg broken in three places doesn’t mind waiting for the doctor to tell you it’s just a little sprain!
I smugly went about my business.
Several hours later, I was watching TV in bed. Hubby and son came into the room.
“What did the doctor say?” I asked, knowing what they would say.
“Well,” hubby said, “Son has a broken pinky”
Silence.
Me: “Oh.”
Otherwise, I am speechless.
Great. If hubby hadn’t intervened, my poor son would be walking around with a crooked pinky for the rest of his life. Once again, my instinctive mothering abilities were WRONG!
I guess parenting is a learning experience. I don't care what anyone says. There is no such thing as maternal instinct. I think, sometimes, that hubby has more maternal instinct than me (yes; I said 'maternal'). He probably won't appreciate me saying that, but thanks to him, our children will be saved from a crazy mother's 'instinctive' parenting.
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