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Organized by Frustration
I love things neat and organized.
Boxes, bins, baskets, bags—I don’t discriminate.
If it has sides and can contain chaos, I’m in love.But my ultimate frustration?
Other people do not treat things the way I do.
And nowhere was this more obvious than the toy room when the kids were little. -
Candlelight & Chicken Nuggets
Ah, family dinners. That magical time of day when everyone was supposed to gather around the table, hold hands, and share stories while eating a well-balanced, home-cooked meal.Yeah… that never happened.
When my kids were little, I tried. Really, I did. I dreamt of Norman Rockwell moments. But instead, dinner became a nightly episode of “Who Hates What?”
One kid didn’t like vegetables. Another refused to eat meat. At one point, the boys would only eat broccoli and cauliflower if they were doused in ketchup, which is a crime against both vegetables and condiments. If I served fish, someone cried. If I made meatloaf, someone gagged. Chicken nuggets were the only universally accepted food group.
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Because I Said So
Rules in our house were usually made between my husband and me. But, perhaps that is because they were girls, at the very end of our discussions, it seemed that I (Mama) ruled. This could be based on style, activities, chores, school, and church events. Now, when it came to discipline, I believe Art ruled. He didn’t have to make these hardcore decisions very often because, for some reason, I tried to shield him from the (really bad stuff). I think I didn’t want him to be upset and/or disappointed in his daughters. (By the way, today I don’t think that was a good idea at all.) -
My Sadness Superpower
Have you ever had one of those days where all you can do is cry?I don’t mean the kind of cry that follows heartbreak or tragedy—although those certainly have their place. I mean the quieter kind. The kind that sneaks up on you after a string of long, exhausting days. The kind that comes from carrying too much for too long. No single reason. Just a slow build-up of sadness that finally needs somewhere to go.
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Discipline or Negotiation
I hated being disciplined as a child. If Mom ever said, “Just wait till your dad gets home…” I would instantly change my behavior to avoid getting yelled at. I don’t remember Dad ever actually yelling at me, but his look of disapproval would send me into an immediate fit of tears. Mom’s discipline never had the same effect on me.