Getting yanked from a seemingly
perfect slumber could be a little alarming, not to mention create the business
end of a hissy-fit. It's a lot of pressure to put on someone, then somehow give
one's best work, most lucid and rational response. Not even 37 seconds ago you
were warm, dreaming of a beach vacation and somewhere along the way you
developed a bikini body...yeah, the stuff that dreams are made of. Only to be
woken up, for no satisfying reason, other than to have a man declare you saw
your shadow.
While the above clearly
describes 'ol Punxsutawney Phil, I shudder to realize this actually could be
describing my life every Saturday. Being awoken, dozens of minutes before
anyone would deem to open their eyes on a weekday, only to be told,
"...mom, I'm up." Um, good to know, and is also loosely translated
as, "Are you getting up to satisfy my every wanted need?" Groundhog
says WHAT? Why? Where? How?
I should tell you this isn't a rant.
This isn't some declaration that moms all over the world have the crap end of
the stick (read my bumper sticker). This isn't a testament to the wonderful humans I call my children (don't own that bumper sticker). This is a
message about time, talent, knowing when to call the fight and when to storm
the beaches...however, if I am seemingly pulling off a bikini body, do not wake
me, I WILL CUT YOU!
We all have talents, we compliment
others on them probably more frequently than we ever would for
ourselves. You go out into the work force and clearly your talents are
rewarded, I mean you have a job, right? For those who work at home,
we secretly know what we are good at, despite the fact that somethings may
never indeed echo anything you could put on a resume. Work it. Own it. Be the
best damned laundry folder/ cupcake maker/DVR-show-finder out there. You
deserve it! Personally, I fold a great fitted sheet, and have also been told
that I am a witch, but I digress.
Know when to call the fight.
Everyone comes into contact with someone who just get their big time
thrills...arguing. I have a few living in this house. I used to engage at
first, in what I assume would be a friendly debate. However, despite the fact
that they do not pay taxes, kids are all knowing (not on a bumper sticker). As
things became unfriendly, I just shut up. What did it matter who won the fight?
Call it already and move your happy ass out of there. It's healthy, it's
responsible, and boy does it drive my "Great Debater" up a tree...a
win/win if you will.
Storming the beaches- man I want a
vacation, like a warm, sun shiny, sit on my money maker vacation...sorry.
Storming the beaches is when you've sat, listened, waited and debated on when
to break up some nonsense. Either you hit your breaking point or you are about
to hear someone's face be broken. You walk in, separate and shut it down. Extra
points for no words spoken, sort of puts people on point. Truly, this could be
done in a house full of kids, or a break room full of employees, your call.
Lastly, I feel it necessary to talk
about time. It's unforgiving, fickle, fantastic, terrifying, and educational
and only moves forward. It is something that denotes growth, oblivescence and
knowing how you got to where you are now. I was reminded in the last month
multiple times how much time has changed things, people, feelings and
situations. I admittedly was terrified of time at some point. As in would I
have time to make it right? Would I have time to understand even if I did? I
used to wonder about my kids growing up, now I wonder who turned on the warped
speed to life. I can look back at pictures and ponder memories, and
genuinely smile. Not because I necessarily, had it all together, not even
close. Moreover, time gave me what I have, and that pretty amazing. And, I'm
not obtuse enough to think that these kids will be growing up any slower. It
does beg me to shout out occasionally, "WARP SPEED? Captain Scotty that
Groundhog has never been on the Enterprise!!!"
