Common Sense, Dancing

I’ve got another opportunity today to do it better. Do what better? Well, this parenting thing. And more than that, this whole being-a-decent-role model for them in the process. At the end of many days, I go to bed feeling like I dropped the ball. Actually, not only feeling like I dropped the ball, but that the damn ball was dropped, rolled around and picked up a dog, who then abandoned it in a corner where it attracted a fuzz or two before being picked up by a couple of boys who thought it’d be fun to toss it around the kitchen despite being told to knock it off with balls in the kitchen becuase if you decapitate another one of my ceramic chickens I’m really going to lose it…ahem. Many nights I go to bed feeling like I dropped the ball.

Every day I tell myself that I’ll have more patience with people, and every day I fail long before lunch. Primarily, the “people” that I’m referring to are my people — flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone. But I also mean the General Public — the driver who’s decided to actually drive 5 miles below the speed limit today, thus hindering my progress to the Dog Food Store; the checker in the grocery store who insists on talking over me to the next checker about a third employee who had a kick-ass party the night before; the teenager in line at Dunkin Donuts who won’t get off her phone long enough to place her order but instead holds up her finger (and the line) in a wait-a-minute gesture while the rest of us contemplate other fingers to be held up….See? Patience out the window and I’ve not even had that cup of coffee yet.

The biggest drain on my patience — what sets my hair on fire, really — is that my children, in particular, do not seem to realize I have any boundaries. There used to be a time, waaay back in the day, where, if something were “Mommy’s,” it would be treated with reverence and awe. “Ooooh, that’s Moommmmy’s,” and then the item would be lovingly stroked or admired. Now, indubitably what you’ll hear is, “Cool! That’s Mom’s! [snatch! clutch! walk away!]”

I got a new computer after The Great Email Hack of June 2010. It’s a lovely shiny new Mac. The children have an lovely old(er) Mac in the next room. Whose computer are they using? Without asking?

The most recent thing that set me off? I brought back two paper fans from Key West. They were handed out during the town “Conch Train” tour — the hokey guide called them “air conditioning.” I brought them home, actually figuring the kids would like them. But I had no sooner taken them out of my bag and laid them on the counter when they were snatched! and taken away. No one asked, “What are these? Can I have these? Do you need these?” — they were just appropriated. And now they’re disappeared, at which point I lost it — over paper fans.

When I’m outside myself, watching myself lose my marbles, I think, “Lady, you must get A Grip.” But The Grip eludes me yet again.

Yesterday, my husband brought home a new iPad. He won it at a contest at work — part of a team-building thing wherein he and a group of employees had to compete against other teams for several weeks….answering questions about the company and other trivia. His team won, and each team member got an iPad. Husband already had one, so he generously and wonderfully brought it home *for me.* This was last night — and because of a busy evening, it really only made it out of the box at bedtime.

Who wants to bet an over/under on how long before someone snatches! clutches! walks away! with it? When you see smoke from central NJ, don’t panic. It’s just my hair on fire.

And since today’s another day and it’s still early, I have a another chance to figure out how to tamp down the flames before anyone gets hurt.

Yes, I saved the heads. I'm that mother.

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Tags: children, mother, pareting, stop touching my stuff

This entry was posted on Friday, September 3rd, 2010 at 8:26 am and is filed under Mother of the Year, Would obedience school be cheaper? Easier?. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.