Everyone packs a little heat...Everyone has a secret trigger. Something that sets them off, whether spoken or in action. I'm not sure if it's my lack of patience, my lack of tolerance, or just my lack of wanting to waste time on nonsense...yeah, my triggers are nearly tattooed on my skin. Thankfully, I'm the only one who can see them, I hope. My triggers have changed over time. In the last year, I feel like some are still at the surface, some need to be discarded, and some things you just never say out loud to another human being, unless you want to be checked.
Perception is a very funny thing. It's easily taken for granted, and usually wrong, unless you really take the time to understand someone. I'm not that complicated, please don't think I'm trying to come off like some complex being. I sometimes just wish that in life, there weren't so many categories, compartments, or the need for definition. Be happy. Be strong. Be silly. Be crazy, hell be a little inebriated, but what ever you want to be, be happy with it...regardless of who isn't.
When it comes to matters of my kids, my triggers are twitchy...playing 'good cop AND bad cop' with my kids, pretty much sucks. There's no uttering, "...just wait until your dad comes home!!" More along the lines of, "...well, it's 8:15 and I mentally need a cocktail..." Being rolled over or standing my ground is a slippery slope. What seems to be 'worth it' one instant, can become blurred lines the next. Knowing what my triggers are, but not realizing until later, "hey, I seriously needed a time out there...". Listen, if you think these kids might be driving you bat shit crazy, it's important to have that all displayed, on the INSIDE. No one will ever know, at least not until I start wearing my underwear on the outside of my clothes.
The funny thing is, if we could all be so honest, as to say what those triggers are, aloud, to people we know and care about...it would seriously save on a lot of wasted emotions, arm flailing, and abrupt yelling. Today, Nora was given a time out, as she had melted down for about the 163 time about nothing before 9 am (relentless whining, that at some point I'm just going to start mocking, as it might be the only way she ever understands how ridiculous she sounds). With the time-out, her trigger was tripped. She sat, angry faced, in her chair outside. She said, "I'm not needing a time-out, I don't plan to share my stuff, because I don't like to...".
...so, it seems, at times, at 9 am, much to early to fix a cocktail, to late in the morning to take a nap, and slightly content, that my underwear are indeed UNDER my clothes...honesty might be overrated...
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