When I was growing up, I never understood a lot of the things my mom told me to do. I knew what I was doing and why, and it all made sense to me.
Why did I have to go to bed? I was having fun playing, and I wasn’t tired. Pleeeeeease, can’t I just stay out for another twenty minutes? Just ten?
And oh, I hated the days the cleaning lady came. Each week when Ginger arrived, that meant I had to clean everything up. I mean seriously, she’s a cleaning lady. Why did I have to clean before the cleaning lady came? Are we embarrassed to show our house to her in its natural state?
Umm, sorry, Mom.
I promise I’ll never have a Donna Reed bob or wear pearls on a daily basis, but I think I’m stepping into your size seven shoes. Just a little.
I’m a sleep nazi. In fact, my parents don’t think the wee ones need sleep now. I’m the one saying they need to go to bed earlier and that yes Little Miss needs a nap in the afternoon. She sleeps every day I’m with her and in charge and only doesn’t nap because you told her she doesn’t need to nap anymore.
I’m the one who’s saying to the wee ones that it’s time to stop playing and that no, it’s too late tonight to do something else before bed. We need to hurry and get ready for bed. I know you aren’t tired, but trust me, it’s bedtime.
And the cleaning lady thing? Uhhh, yeah. I’ve since learned that it’s not actually cleaning before the cleaning lady comes. It’s straightening. There’s a big difference. They can’t clean the house if there’s piles of stuff everywhere. And I’m the one sighing on Thursday mornings as I see my husband’s dirty clothes on a pile in the middle of our bedroom floor.
Yes, I too am overinvolved in the schools. I’m PTO president this year, and I can’t figure out how to say no. I’m volunteering to bring foods for the church potluck. I’m the person they turn to at the last minute to get something done.
And I may be sending Mister Man to Catholic school next year. I went to Catholic school until eighth grade, and I never thought I’d send my children there. I am currently setting up an appointment to go visit with a school in the next couple of weeks. Where did that come from?
If it makes you feel better though, I promise I won’t completely take over everything you did.
I have no plans to put bags of cooked spaghetti into Ziploc bags in the freezer and leave them there for my wee ones to forage dinner.
I refuse to eat breakfast and lunch of a single bowl of cottage cheese with canned peaches atop it. Yuck.
My wee ones will never believe that the UPS truck is our personal delivery vehicle. Instead, we have neighbors two doors north of us who are taking that job.
And I’ll never own a car with the hopes that one day it will be considered an antique so I can get special license plates for it. And I definitely won’t ever park it in my garage and then have it somehow roll out of the garage and into a pond where it’s totaled due to electrical damage only thirteen years into owning it.
Phew. I feel a little better now.