What Wisdom I’ve Gained…In All the Same Areas My Mother Did…

Mom and Grandma told me that “nothing jiggles” on a lady.  Or at least it shouldn’t.

At that time, the information was of no use to me, as I was 5’2″ and weighed 95 lbs. soaking wet.

I think you’d agree, time keeps slipping into the future.

Today, the opposite is true.  The absence of jiggle is also not any mark of a lady.  The presence of jiggle is not a way of separating the ladies from the women or broads.

I am also no longer 5’2″…

Fashion trended away from “leave a little something to the imagination”.

Fashion, that excellent slave–that terrible master.

Has driven culture to the point that Southern Living Magazine would devote a half page of copy space for a young writer to apologize and explain her reasons for appearing in ankle socks elsewhere in the issue*.  As if they would lose readers, if there were not some sort of editorial responsibility taken when a young woman keeps her toes clean and safe as she learns to fly on the trapeze.

I digress.

Discreet fashion choices that emphasize strengths and downplay weakness is out of the question.  Utility and appropriateness to the event or activity is relative.

Maybe it’s my home training, but I don’t think of the trends as my “right”.  If it shows me for what I am, I figure I don’t need to make my problem yours, and I cover myself. Vanity?  Heck, YEAH!!! But I’m leaving my struggle with chronic pain, depression, and gravy to your imagination.

My point?  Years ago, in an effort to prevent “jiggle” and “leave it to the imagination”, a woman had an arsenal of “FOUNDATIONS”.  The girdle has gone by the wayside.  Unstylish.  Unattractive.  Indicative of some sort of bondage….  Today, a young woman would never admit to wearing a girdle to cheat her way into a garment that is really made for a different body type.  Because they are a thing of the past.

Today, we have “shapers”.  Spanx.

Because those aren’t girdles.

Yes, they are.  Spanx are girdles.  Just say it.  Don’t apologize.

You are wearing Jane Jetson’s girdle.

There you go.  The emperor is now free to put his pants back on and look better in them.

 

*About 5 years ago, before Lindsey Biermann took over and turned it into Hipster Living. I subscribe and complain every month.  Mickey thinks it’s PMS.

 

 

Was There a Victoria’s Secret in the Temple Courts?

In the Spring of the first year I blogged, a blogger I was unfamiliar with issued a challenge to “Biblical Submission for Wives”.  A blogger who doesn’t hold the same beliefs presided over a firestorm of fury the idea that a blogger would invite those of her same beliefs to join her in practicing them.  It catapulted them both to blog fame and notoriety.

I was offended by the whole mess.  I thought the blogger was a hater and if the submission gal had been of another faith her challenge would have been ignored or thought of as a beautiful expression of a unique system.    I have since re-canted this position.  I thought the challenge was legalistic and simplistic.  And with my own good reasons.

For a long time I strived to demonstrate the kind of submission she talked about.  One where I wore dull old lady clothes, made my home and family look like a photo drawn by a 3rd grader with flowers and birds and a big yellow sun.  Where he was supposed to be the one who called the shots and lacking orders I labored to apply all the “Christian” images of a happy home and family.

It’s just not that simple.  No one ever said what to do if he didn’t participate.  No one ever told him what he was supposed to want to tell me to do.

Oh, I figured out to hide behind him when there was something I didn’t want to do.  And how to get him to command my will and think it was his. Because that’s so healthy.

I even went so far as to attempt to wear skirts and blouses, rather than jeans, because it would be feminine.  I learned nothing.  I looked a lot more like Mrs Doubtfire than I’d started out to do. There is nothing holy about Robin Williams in a dress.

Finally, I abandoned the model.  It was a roaring failure and I chucked it in the bag with all my others.

It occurs to me today, as I am one big raw mess of “I’m-Out-of-Time”, I possibly, get submission a little better now.  Biblical submission is first of all not strictly for women.  Men are to submit to things, too.  That means all of us.  To God.  To the rulers and authorities. To each other within the faith (meaning don’t make conflict by hanging on to something non-essential).  Jesus, Himself, submitted to the rulers of his own people and the national government.  Even when they were wrong.

Oh.  Sometimes submission is easy.  Like in situations where you meet criteria and receive a good thing.  Like in adoption…  I fill out paperwork, collect documents, get medical evaluations, complete reading and classes, pay fees, and wait.  Then, most times, a child comes.  But I have to submit to the process.  I can’t say, “No I think it makes sense for you to do it another way.”  That is an easy kind of submission.

What do I think it looks like?

Deep in the middle of the Old Testament, is a book called Song of Solomon.  It’s racy.  It describes a couple driven by their need for intimacy with one another.  That the voices of all the other demands on their lives are hushed when they are together.  They have no fear of rejection or danger.  They are free to be completely vulnerable and unashamed.

People teach it as a tutorial for married sex.  People teach it as a model for the relationship between Christ and His church.  I am no Bible Scholar, so I am going to launch out here and get in trouble.

In the hidden life of a husband and wife, there is a moment when she abandons herself to him.  Sometimes in reverent awe.  Sometimes in teasing, raucous fire.  Even when she is initiator and taking the ministry to his need.

It is simply no different in the kitchen in the morning rush. Or the Thursday evening “arsenic hour” with overtired kids and overdue bills.

Biblical submission is the moment when I lay all of my defenses aside to let him take over the authority to cherish, nourish and help me maximize my potential.

See, when I submit to God the same is true.  When even when Mickey trusts me to guide a project, because I know more about it than he does. When a child does what a parent has told them because they trust.  Even when you work for an idiot, who can’t find their hind end with both hands, and you do what he or she says, because…  Because.

It isn’t obedience from a subordinate to a superior.  It’s letting go the self agenda for the unified purpose.

It’s serving to receive, to serve to receive, to serve to be fully known and to know fully.

Ahhh.

Everybody gets theirs.

I guess I should also note that if the Bible isn’t something you feel is for you right now, there’s no reason I’d expect this to appeal or call you to anything.  This is just to respond to something nearly three years old that’s a discussion between my own inner thoughts and the thoughts of a person of my same faith who I think has a lot of joy waiting for her when she gets free.  And you are always welcome here to agree or disagree if you’d like.

 

Thirteen for ’13

I decided to limit my goals to 13.  I could list 100 and still not address all that needs overhauling in my life.  Little by little, I feel that I’ve let things get sloppy.  There is only one way to fix it.  Fix it.

GOALS

1) Silence.  No computer.  No people.  No kidding.  I’ve always had a value for silence.  Maybe because I am an only child, I “got it” from a very early age.  I don’t know.  Whatever’s the case, I haven’t been alone systematically for months.

Looks like: setting an alarm, no matter what time I go to bed.

Start: now.

Finish: none.  Death is the ultimate meditative silence.

2) Move in my strengths.  I actually know a thing or two, and in one or two areas, I am an expert.  A couple of months ago, I had a bit of a wake up call when my brain screamed,”You haven’t accomplished [thing I want] because you have no self-confidence to try.

Looks like: *sigh* making a list of my strengths and deciding in what ways to use those resources to encourage others.

Start: today.

Finish: the list, Feb 1.

3) Rock the kitchen.  The fact is, I avoid cooking food and feeding people.  It’s unloving.  It’s irresponsible.  It’s wasteful.

Looks like:  Keeping enough food in the house for people to eat. I am bad for getting home without enough snacks.  This drives my children to eat all the chips, pretzels, carrots, celery, crackers, cheese, lunch meat, green beans. Then, when meal time comes, there is no li’l side or something.  Planning dinners but also, *sigh* lunches.

Start: Today.

Finish: I can shop today.  Menu planning needs a longer finish date.  The best idea I’ve heard is to create a number of menus and rotate them.  Gimme….two weeks.

4) Get a choke hold on the family finances.  Choke. Hold.  I hope that’s not too harsh of imagery for my more delicate blog guest.  I checked us out on Global Rich List.  I have no excuse.

Looks like: Giving systematically to God’s Work (not always strictly to the local church). Saving like a mad woman.  Possibly refinancing.  Executing a will. Aggressive debt re-payment. It might be a service like Manilla.  I don’t love being here, but I know I am not alone in the world and this is my blog and I’m collecting on the accountability, real or imagined.

Start: Today

Finish: I need to set individual times on each one.  So, today’s action is that.  By night fall tonight, I will have estimated finish dates on these.

5) Get serious about writing. I could post a “knock-knock” joke a day on the blog for the rest of my life.  I could continue to analyze my navel lint for the next five years.  Am I writing or not?  Am I any good or not?

Looks like: submitting something for publication to a legitimate source like a magazine or newspaper or a nice website.

Start: yesterday, I bought The Writer’s Digest, Writer’s Yearbook 2013*.   It has a number of websites for writers.

Finish: Submit something by the end of February.

6) Love my blog.  It seems that when the adoption was final I lost my niche. I still believe in my blog’s name.  What-We-Can’t-Explain is a part of God’s Perfect Design for our lives.  That’s the best description of my life so far.  The greatest things that ever happened were because of what looked like a slip on a banana peel or a cosmic clothesline.

Looks like: a design, a blogging calendar, guest posting, and monetizing.  Creating my own or using others daily blog checklists.

Start: Dec 28–The design is underway. January 3 or something. I’ve been invited to guest post I have to accept.  I’m shy, see.

Finish: The design stuff I have no control over…could be in a week or two.  I will accept on the guest post today.

7) Hold out for quality.  My children have developed a general expectation of life that’s mediocre. I commented to someone the other day that kids will appreciate quality if that’s what they’re exposed to.  It was like I slapped my own face.

Looks like: Resisting the “I can do that later.”

Start: When I Dress for work this morning.

Finish: When they are educated and have found a husband or wife.

8) School. I am burnt out, but I’m not giving up. At least, public school kids are impelled. This is my gig. Only the ISP headmaster gets to tell me what to do.

Looks like: Getting all my paperwork prepared so when it’s due, there is less stress.  Planning the rest of the curriculum until graduation.  Looking at college degree plans so I know what they need.

Start: today.

Finish: Feb 1.

9) Take better care of myself.  (See #1)  I am a big girl.  No one is going to take care of my body and mind and spirit.  End of discussion.  Sure, I’d like to call this one exercise and eat right, but there might be one or two things I need before that.

Looks like: List of needs.  Plan to execute.

Start: When I started writing this post.

Deadline: one week.

10) Make a house that I’m not ashamed to have in the background of my photos.

Looks like: Fill the space in the attic that I gained access to when I was in there.  Give away junk.  Throw away trash.  Plan for Renovation work.

Start: this isn’t rocket science.  Tomorrow’s Saturday.

Finish:

11)  Stop waste in the house.  I think this is redundant, but, it is a mindset.  Instead of seeing my goals in terms of their worth in sacrifice, I get in the habit of medicating my feelings with a “pass”.  Well, $#!@’s out of hand.   Money, Time, Food, Utilities, Late Fees, Brain cells (we have watched some really stupid stuff).

Looks like: setting the example myself.  Shut up.  I hate my life.

Start: with shorter showers and not using the fixture with six bulbs unless I am putting on make-up.  List other areas and work on them.

Finish: When kids can run their own homes.

12)  The organization thing– create systems that make the obnoxious work easy.  Then USE THEM.  Even if it is a to-do list.  Making the list isn’t the objective.  It’s coming under the authority of the list that counts. Looks like: starting that list.

Start: in a minute.

Finish: when I no longer rely on a pile of paper to know what I need to do next.

13) Trust God– I’ve been mad at him over some things that happened really close together that we didn’t get a good outcome on.  But even before that, I was going on the feeling that He wasn’t really showing up for me.  I was having to do this all myself.  I know better.  I wouldn’t be even so much as alive without Him.  If He doesn’t have me now,  none of this really matters.

Looks like: Being joyful when I feel down and discouraged.  Not in a fake way, but acknowledging my feelings and listing what is still good or given in the midst.  There’s a blog challenge, but I think I might do it privately.

Start: ASAP

Finish: Every moment and start again.

 

*It’s a magazine… not Writer’s Market.  I couldn’t find a link.

 

 

 

Lust: A Christmas Tutorial

The youth group has a question box.  You can put a question in and the leaders will take a little time on Wednesday evening to answer it.  Several weeks ago, someone asked if the word lust had only to do with sex.  Pretty good question.

Did I forget to mention that only men are allowed to teach mixed groups of people at our church?

Yeah.

So the person, who answered this, answered in the negative; that there is also a lust for power.  His example, people who run for public office.  Regardless of political party.

That was all.

It has troubled me for the entire time, that he didn’t talk about all the other drives of the flesh that we indulge.

I tried to bring the example of the desire to drive the “then-new-to-me” car on the road between Target and an adjoining suburb.  It features tight curves and ever-so-slight banking in a spot or two.  This vehicle is made to handle well and this little spot of perhaps a half mile is a delightful opportunity to sample that.  Really delightful.

Apparently, that was interpreted as me wanting to brag about the car.

I was interrupted and ignored.

There are a number of kinds of lust.  I avoided blogging it because, they’ll all find out soon enough and it was just me taking it personally.

So, in the spirit of taking it personally, I’m blogging it now.  Because I have a bad case.

You see, I have a cookbook collection.  Not like I am trying to build a library that will be donated for public use when I die.  But to use. Each one has a story and a reason.  I have hard and fast rules for selection, that even I don’t know.  I know when I see them.  I experience a kind of feeling of awe sometimes when I find a certain one.

I digress.

For Christmas, I started a little project.  I bought cookbooks for some kids (5) I love.  They are like nieces and nephews. Sort of.  Thing.

There’s the great used book store here, and I got in the cookbook section and found six (6) treasures.  I can’t decide which book to give which kid.  Because I want two (2) of them for myself.

Two.

Two.

 

Want them.

Both.

Want.

A lot.

So I’m sitting here trying to wrap gifts and looking through the books, especially the ones I want, but then I glanced through the one that was most expensive.  Now, I want it, too.

That’s what made me remember.

Lust.

Desire.

Well-engineered cars,

Cookbooks that take my breath away,

Fine leather goods, like handbags, wallets, belts and…

Yesterday, I was doing a little shopping.

I wanted to buy something for someone who reads this blog.  Who I’m responsible for dressing.  The cost was a little ambitious.  I got a little angry.

Because I wanted what I wanted.  And felt it was out of reach.

Non-essential.

There may have been some pouting.  I’m not scared, though.  Santa and I are on shaky terms right now (it’s another post).

Desire.

I’m not as tired as I was and I think I’m going back.

To be excessive in the essentials.

Lavish.

Soliciting for real connection through some other means.

Please.

Any self-respecting first-world woman, knows I’m talking about boots.

Two pair of size ten black leather riding boots.

Mm.

Mm.

Mm.

And I might buy a hot drink (with some kind of froth or something) while I’m out.

What do you say?  Is lust just a sexual term?  What do you hope Santa will slather all over you this Christmas?

 

 

 

Excuse Me, But Do You Have The Time?

To do something fun and friendly?

My friend Sam is in his last year of vet school.

He is the oldest of five children.

He has spent the last six years anyway, busily working away at becoming not just a vet, but a man.

He was on the team that went to India the year Mickey went.

He helped me figure out what was wrong with Low Self-Esteem Dog’s eye, when she tried to take it out herself.

He is seemingly unaware of his eligibility as a bachelor.

He is trying to win a weird prize.

An portable ultrasound for large animal use.

Glamorous, right?

Well, here’s the deal.

It’s a video entry and will be decided by votes.

He is the only student in the competition and most of the people I know, know him.

Except here.

If you wouldn’t mind stopping by and casting your vote, he would be so very thankful.

His is the last entry and it’s awesome as Sam is.

By all means, if you need to watch all the videos, feel free, because I want you to vote your conscience.

Because loving your friends is loving your friends IRL and Blog.  Right?

Thanks!

 

Pick Me! Pick Me! I Can Aim Low!

Blogging, little as I understand it, has become my thing.  I am a big starter and a so-so finisher.  I’ve been blogging for nearly three years, which is HUGE for me.

Blogging walked me through the adoption of our son from China.  I started following a few adoption blogs from the agency’s yahoo group.  As I followed, I gained the courage to hold the course through the uncertain nature of adoption.  I started my own, in hopes of sharing my story for those who’d walk that path.

One day, I saw a “blogs I follow” list.  Too new, to know a niche or that I had wandered away from camp, I found this blog. I laughed until I snorted and tears ran down my cheeks.

I stay home with my kids.  It can get lonely.  In December 2009, Jennifer posted to a meme at that blog.  Since then, we have built a friendship that I care about as much as some of my dearest IRL friendships.  She has encouraged me, mentored me, laughed when I laughed and cursed when I could only cry.  Like the finest friends do.

Blogging saw me through the adoption, my husband’s miserable job situation, walked with me through some health issues and realizing what a mid-life crisis is.  I think there were a lot of laughs, along the way.

I found Aiming Low several months ago.  They sound like how I speak in real life, except I can’t use the the eff word. I  do think it.  Remember, I am homeschooling two (2) 15 year-old girls.

Aiming Low has a Non-Conference.

The first time I saw the ad…

I peeked.

Yep, it’s what I think it is.

The next time,…

I took a longer look.

It’s not that far away.”

Then, when all my blogging crushes role models went to BlogHer, I got serious.  I looked at the cost to stay at Callaway Gardens,

“…and done.”

From then on, I diligently looked from references to Non-Con.  It wasn’t expensive.  On the contrary, it’s quite reasonable.  It’s just that in recovering from our season of going without food so the company owner could vacation in Hawaii economic recession, we need to plan for  things that come next–Christmas and extra-curricular activities.

Then, I saw it…

Simply Sassy Media Wanted to Send Me to Aiming Low’s Non-Con.

I wanted to write a sassy post.  I wanted to write a clever post. But the truth is…

I’ve nearly imploded in the last three years.  The blog probably saved my life.  Now, it’s time to build a soapbox to stand on to tell my story.  If there is one thing I am, it’s smart enough to know from whom I like to learn and for whom I’d like to fetch coffee.  Non-Con is “slam-packed” with the kind of stars I’d like to hitch my wagon to.

That’s, All Y’all.

Tell, Ree, if she’s of a mind to take the weekend off, I’ll bring rolls.

 

Thanks to Simply Sassy Media for the challenge.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Monday Morning

This is the extent to which I am even speaking to the blog.  I am taking it back to the basics of the invention.  A journal.  No one is reading, and I have lost my soul, as it were.  I wrote because I loved it.  I read because I loved finding out there were people who were thinking about the same things I do.

I got all confused with writing to please a reader.  So they would come back.  Then I thought  I’d monetize.  But before I got to that I thought I’d participate with sponsors.  I am not good.  I am bad at it.  I freeze.

I guest posted.  I guess I did that wrong,too.  I think I was supposed to bust it out on social media more than I did. I didn’t hear back from them.

At this point, it’s hard to remember why I’m blogging. My delight went somewhere.  The blog is going back to basics.

THIS IS WHO I AM AND THIS IS WHAT’S GOING ON:

After a big weekend, we are “at the school table”.  Inexplicably, I have known the answer to the questions, today.  The questions are seldom content based, but rather, a distraction from getting down to business(Touchdown “*Bleep*ville Twist-offs!).

There is only one orthodontist appointment, this week.  Only three scheduled in the next month; including surgery.

One child has decided what she wants to study for life!!!  Victory!  The week before, she was planning to live off mom and dad until a pop star or Small British Olympian swept her off her feet.  (Hard to do when they’re propped up on the couch.)  She wants to be a foreign language translator and is planning to study French, Spanish, and Chinese.  Which is awesome.

Over the weekend, we still had peaches from our trip to the roadside stand and needed to use them before they spoiled.  We made a cobbler and some preserves.

Future foreign language interpreter peeling peaches.

Add sugar and pectin.

Let sit 12-18 hours.  Cook down.  Pour boiling mixture into prepared jars. Cook in hot water bath boiling 15 minutes.

Caution: the recipe said it yielded 7 half pints. Try 11 and a half.

Again, a lot easier than I would have thought.

We had more peaches even than that, so the sister, who didn’t work on the preserves because she was mowing the whole yard* by herself for the first time, showered and made a peach cobbler that we shared with our small group yesterday.  It didn’t get a photo.  Sorry, but it just would have made your mouth water.  So, it’s probably for the best.

 

 

* Mickey is in a boot, so someone was going to have to step up and she did.

 

 

 

Enough is Enough?

This will be the post that gets an ugly anonymous comment. (All real bloggers get them.) I can feel it.  I have to write it.  It is not about a blog or  bloggers who link to a couple of memes I am aware of that have to do with what I am about to say.  I think the internet has room for all different beliefs.  I think they are on trend rather than responsible for the basis of the trend in thinking.

What I have to share today is fueled by my real life experience.

Women  tend to get hung up in the idea of not being adequate to the task before them.  Tasks.  We have to do like the cologne ad from the 70s…”bring home the bacon, fry it up in the pan, and never let him forget he’s a man.”

Actually, the ad was based on a remake of a song (the writer’s grandchildren will probably emerge and sue me. They can have all the money I’ve made off the blog. I’ll dig through the bottom of my purse.)

I digress.

We get hung up.

When we’re small, the only expectations we have to deal with are those of our parents; we don’t have any for ourselves, yet.  As we grow, we add those of teachers and peers.  At some point, we begin to feel expectations for ourselves, but they’re freighted with what others expect of us.  As we become adults, we hope to be productive citizens, adding the expectations of employers, employees, a spouse and the culture to the load we bear.

I’ve been seeing and hearing a whisper on the wind of something I believe will become a movement.  It’s on coffee mugs and tote bags.  Blogs and Devotional books…

YOU ARE ENOUGH.

I think what this is attempting to say is, “Do what you can and don’t worry about the rest”.

Maybe, “Don’t carry around others’ expectations,”…which are both good things.  If that’s what you’re trying to say, say it.

If I’m enough, I wouldn’t need anyone else.  Isolation makes people lose perspective.  We’ve seen it in a lot of different ways, from our crazy uncle to people who shoot guns into crowds.

This kind of thinking is arrogant.  “I am all I need.”  Bit of a slap in the face to those who support you and take up your slack.

We need others.  Husband or wife, kids, faith community, neighbors (ever locked yourself out of your own house? At night?).

It’s difficult to reconcile self-sufficiency with scripture.  Jesus Christ, Himself, had helpers.

What would we do without each other?  I don’t know what I would’ve done without my blog friends over the last three years.  I don’t know what I’d do without my IRL friend, CMK; she’s like an older sister who felt like mom spoiled me too much.  Sometimes, that’s just what I need.

Today,  I need a physical therapist, a grocer and a curriculum publisher.  Yesterday, I needed a doctor, a pharmacist, and the gal hanging out the drive-thru at the Taco Bell.  Tomorrow, I will go out of the house at 9:30 p.m. with the gals, to help decorate for a wedding for a gal who doesn’t have family to help her.  Last week, we shopped the thrift store that benefits the battered women’s shelter.  A dress we donated was in the display, while my daughter located Hilfiger khakis for $8.

If I’m enough, how come It Takes A Village?

I’m not enough.  If I was, I wouldn’t need Jesus.  I wouldn’t need to go out for girl’s night out.  Or to go to a blog conference or to church or homeschool co-op.

I am so terribly grateful to be less than I need.

 

Grounded. Together.

If you’re new here, and I hope at least 50 or more of you are, my blog is to record things I want my children to know.  Now that my face is actually blue, I need a transcript, so when they say, “WHY DIDN”T YOU TELL ME!!!”  I can say, “See, Honey, I tried.

Another function of the blog is to give a gentle heads-up to the parent of young children.  A significantly filtered look into the future.  An opportunity to prepare, but not enough information to scare.

Or whatever.

This is the first time the girls are completely grounded.  There have been times we’ve removed certain privileges, but never an across the board “cultural lockdown.”

Here is why.

There’s this wise-sounding piece of parenting advice that reminds parents not to punish themselves.

That is wrong and deceptive.

First, that ship sailed when the pee hit the stick.

Second, If you aren’t willing to be inconvenienced to make an impression on your child’s heart and mind, you will visit judgement upon your future self in the form of the kind of sludge I am shoveling now.  It shows what is most important…the child’s character or getting to girls’ night.

–leave Target and take her “I’ll-by-gosh-have-this-Barbie-or-know-the-reason-why” tantrum throwing butt to the car.  Text your husband to bring you a magazine and a hot black coffee and whatever was on your list.

–cancel the play date, skip the birthday party: tell the mom, “Sorry.”  If she asks why, she’s rude.  You can’t make it.

–call the coach and tell him you are missing practice.  Yeah, I said it.  Another day, I’ll climb on my soapbox about young athletes thinking they’re above the law.  Not today.

I count on the above activities as a break from being the organ grinder’s monkey who has to perform if they drop a penny in my cup.  Maybe because it’s summer, I hear an endless, “CanI?CanI?CanI?CanI?CanI?CanI?” (Recently, I told them to stop asking coming to me for permission to do things(that call for a ruling) and look around for things they already know they have permission to do.)  They’re hip-deep in pre-qualified, socio-cognitively rich, entertainment options.

I digress.

I was on inconveniencing yourself.

Do it, now.  Just a few startled looks from now, that child will believe you when you talk.

Don’t be like me.

They are just wrapping up week one of a 35 day “cultural lockdown” (it’s the new grounding [Not really, I made it up and hope it catches on]).  I COULD NOT BE MORE GRATEFUL THAT THE ISSUE IS WHAT IT IS. While I am not glad to have “Flaming-Trousered Prevaricators”, I could be dealing with worse.

Currently, I haven’t been alone except to bathe (and then only 77% of the time) in a week.  We started school this week. I did it because if we had more to do we would not have had so much time to come up with stupid ideas (or join our sister on the crew of the SS ‘Ignorificance’).

They are ‘killing me softly’.

Being grounded when you’re a kid, you’re not observing yourself.  I’m watching them, and can tell they don’t get that they took the risk and, by extension, chose whatever happened when they got caught.  They don’t see “this hurts me more than it hurts them” and may cause my death if I don’t get some time away from them.  They don’t see the whole point is that they’re missing things they’d like to do.  And I don’t care.

But I do.

No, I don’t.

It all depends on when you want to put in the time.  You can do it early.  Or later on.

Most things in life are like that.

So we’re all just…grounded.  Together.

 

 

 

 

It’s Almost Back to School Time

I am writing about things I want my kids to have when they go back to school, beyond new markers and jeans.

In my guest post at Mom It Forward.

Today.

Mom It Forward Contributor

Please, go look.

Tell me what you think.

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