Do you find that your older child(ren) will nap sometimes, but rarely when you want them to? Do you find that your own capacity to relax and snooze has been shredded by years of being hyper-vigilant at home and at work?
This morning was a prime example. My older son was up half the night with a bad migraine, and my younger son had a sore throat. I did feel bad about calling in, but (as I reminded myself) I am a mother before I am a teacher. So I left my colleagues to manage the makeup testing that is still going on at school, checked on my older son who was still asleep after such a bad night, and lay down with my younger son to snooze so we could both try to recover. Or so I thought.
A few minutes after I closed my eyes, it started.
"Ma? Give me your hand, I want you to feel my lung, it's beating really fast."
"Ma? If the bad weather gives Alden migraines [I had told Jack that changing air pressure and storms seem to bring on his brother's migraines], then maybe we should keep him from watching the weather report on the news."
"Ma? You might feel something sharp, sorry, I left some shark teeth in this blanket."
That was actually the last straw, I got up and drank coffee instead. So much for my attempt to snooze or (as Jack calls it) "review the files in my mind"!
*****If you think this blog is funny, read an excerpt of my book here "Horsewomen in Foal and Other Equestrian Adventures" -- this comes with my exclusive Laugh Until You Pee Guarantee (certain exclusions apply: guarantee only good for women who have had at least two children)
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Saturday, May 18, 2013
The Project
Have you ever started a project that haunted you, something that turned into a prolonged nightmare? If you have, you will probably laugh as much as I did over this recent Craigslist ad:
Free twelve-foot-long Banshee sailboat hull. Hull is in poor condition with fading paint, holes below the waterline, and missing transom. Was purchased as a project two years ago and has been sitting in my backyard ever since, leaving a blighted boat-shaped patch where no grass will ever grow again. I am moving out and need it gone soon. Would make a fun summer project, or a unique planter/ yard decoration. Or use it for target practice for small arms fire. Honestly, I don't care what you do with it. Fill it up with water and make it a jacuzzi. Set it on fire. If nobody responds, I'm going to take the foam out, open all the hatch covers, tow it several miles out into the Atlantic, and let Poseidon reclaim his rightful property. Would also make a nice artificial reef.
Note the tone of this ad, which swings from realism to desperation to a muted acknowledgement that there might yet be something alive that would appreciate this item, even if that something is barnacle.
I have never invited anyone to set my home project on fire, but I have sometimes experienced profound frustration. The worst part about projects is that you really have no one to blame but yourself. What exactly was I thinking, painting the living room baby blue? Why do I still have rolls of Looney Tunes borders for the boys' room, when my boys are 10 and 12? And outdoors-- don't get me started on outdoors. Just today I was asking myself, how did that vine, the one that has no apparent connection to the ground, grow above the window and into the rain gutter?
Working all week, we are not home enough, so there is always a lot to do around our small farm on the weekends. Sometimes we get overwhelmed. However, each morning on my way to work I pass a cemetery, and I remind myself of one important thing: Those people don't have a to-do list.
Free twelve-foot-long Banshee sailboat hull. Hull is in poor condition with fading paint, holes below the waterline, and missing transom. Was purchased as a project two years ago and has been sitting in my backyard ever since, leaving a blighted boat-shaped patch where no grass will ever grow again. I am moving out and need it gone soon. Would make a fun summer project, or a unique planter/ yard decoration. Or use it for target practice for small arms fire. Honestly, I don't care what you do with it. Fill it up with water and make it a jacuzzi. Set it on fire. If nobody responds, I'm going to take the foam out, open all the hatch covers, tow it several miles out into the Atlantic, and let Poseidon reclaim his rightful property. Would also make a nice artificial reef.
Note the tone of this ad, which swings from realism to desperation to a muted acknowledgement that there might yet be something alive that would appreciate this item, even if that something is barnacle.
I have never invited anyone to set my home project on fire, but I have sometimes experienced profound frustration. The worst part about projects is that you really have no one to blame but yourself. What exactly was I thinking, painting the living room baby blue? Why do I still have rolls of Looney Tunes borders for the boys' room, when my boys are 10 and 12? And outdoors-- don't get me started on outdoors. Just today I was asking myself, how did that vine, the one that has no apparent connection to the ground, grow above the window and into the rain gutter?
Working all week, we are not home enough, so there is always a lot to do around our small farm on the weekends. Sometimes we get overwhelmed. However, each morning on my way to work I pass a cemetery, and I remind myself of one important thing: Those people don't have a to-do list.
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