“Just a little bit.” Those are four words every mother wants to hear from her teenage daughters on a beautiful spring day in answer to the question “Do you have homework?” Those were the words I heard this bright and beautiful Sunday morning, which meant they had time to do something else today. My garden was calling to me and because of some current health issues, I needed some able bodies out there to do what I couldn’t.
“Just a little bit.” Those are four words every mother wants to hear from her teenage daughters on a beautiful spring day in answer to the question “Do you have homework?” Those were the words I heard this bright and beautiful Sunday morning, which meant they had time to do something else today. My garden was calling to me and because of some current health issues, I needed some able bodies out there to do what I couldn’t.
Every night I wait as long as possible. I can’t usually make it past five; actually, I usually can’t make it much past dinner and we eat by 3:30-4 p.m. Sometimes I don’t even wait until the dishes are done before I change into my pajamas.
Have you ever thought about how much energy goes into the seemingly simple act of grocery shopping? Each degree of grocery shopping is an entity in itself and deserves admiration and respect from the family who benefits.
My husband left town for a couple days this last week. Every year he goes to a big swap meet in Portland. It’s miles and miles of car parts. I’ve never gone with him to this particular swap meet. And actually I’ve only been to one or two swap meets with him at all. Truthfully, I really couldn’t care less about car parts and he probably has a better time without me anyway. What guy wants a bored wife following him around asking if he’s done looking?
Lately, I have been more aware of how much I’m forgetting. I think it’s a mom’s prerogative to forget things; we are running other lives besides our own, so we have a right to forget a few things. But sometimes we get into situations where there are more things to forget than normal.
The other night I had a Twilight Zone moment. I’m not talking about the phenomenon that is the Twilight series with the vampires, but rather the old television series the Twilight Zone. People in the series would have some sort of problem, then would find themselves in a weird parallel universe of sorts; often it was a “careful what you wish for scenario.”
We have had a Japanese exchange student staying with us for the past week. She’ll be here another four days. She attends high school with my oldest daughter during the week; so much of her time is taken up with school activities.
Last week my oldest daughter came home and told me she didn’t have to be at school until 10:45. Apparently because the sophomores were having state testing, the upper classmen who had passed their state testing did not have to be at school until 10:45.
I woke up on Saturday and decided I was taking back my house. We’ve been making costumes for my daughters’ upcoming anime convention and the house was strewn with random pieces of fabric, thread bits, scissors, wire, boxes full of odds and ends, bolts of fabric, garbage from cutting and trimming, pins and needles. I was really sick of it.
This column may or may not be what you think it is, because the subject of effective hiding for moms is two-fold. There are times in every mom’s motherhood career when she really just wants to hide. It can be wherever she feels she can effectively get away from her kids, husband or both. I’ve heard some moms even tell their children that “Mommy needs a time-out.”
I think when we begin a project we enter some sort of time warp. Did you ever notice how much you think you can get done is nowhere near how much you actually get done?
I woke up this morning feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. I even tried to get an extra hour of z’s, but to no avail.
I realize I really don’t have the weight of the world on my shoulders, just a small portion, and certainly no more than anyone else, and probably much less.
My husband always has the tools he needs to work on cars and random house projects; if he doesn’t he buys a new one. In fact, if he needs a tool, but can’t find it in his messy shop, he buys another one. He insists he needed to upgrade anyway; I’m not sure who he’s trying to convince, I’m not a hard sell.
I woke up this morning feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. I even tried to get an extra hour of z’s, but to no avail. I realize I really don’t have the weight of the world on my shoulders, just a small portion, and certainly no more than anyone else, and probably much less.
It’s Sunday morning, February 5, 2012. My husband and I turned on “The Road to the Super Bowl.” It got me thinking about my road to the Super Bowl.
At some point last year, I created a Facebook account and figured out how to link my website to it. It worked, but not the way I had expected it to work. The link just became lost at the bottom of the pile of other postings. How to use this social networking site has eluded me.
All this snow was so much fun until the power went out. Now it’s cold and dark in the house. My oldest summed it up last night when she said, “Having the power out is depressing; it’s cold, dark and cakeless.”
I have decided my New Year’s resolution this year will be focused on my daughters. For their benefit I am resolving not to be the perfect wife and mother.
Before we fall asleep at night my husband and I often have laugh sessions over things our daughters do or don’t do. The topic of conversation a few nights ago was over their bathroom trash.
