Tag Archives: Life

I Need Some Advice

10 Sep

There is a delicate balance between good and bad at our house in the mornings.  Well, school mornings.

I consider myself a morning person.  Now, I don’t get up the first time the alarm goes off, generally I “snooze” twice (or should I say my husband “snoozes” twice since the alarm is on his side of the bed).  The alarm is set for 5:30 and I am up at 5:44.  Once I am up, I’m up for the day.

My oldest daughter, Shelby, is like me.  When I wake her up in the morning she doesn’t hop right out of bed, but she usually gets up the second time I go in to get her.  Then her first order of business is food.  After that she is very chatty, which annoys Maggie, my middle child.  I have learned over the years that speaking to Maggie in the morning is not a good idea so  I indirectly wake her up.  How does someone “indirectly” wake someone?  Well, the girls share a room so when I wake Shelby up Maggie gets woken up by default.  I make an effort not to speak to Maggie until spoken to.  This is an unspoken (no pun intended) agreement we have.

I know you are all wondering why am I still waking my high school students in the mornings.  We have tried the alarm clock thing but both of the girls just sleep through it.  I am doing them a disservice, of this I am fully aware.

Anyway, my son is a whole other breed of morning person.  Or should I say non-morning person.

This is my son’s motto in the mornings.

I have attempted all manners of waking him up.  I have been all sweet and lovey and huggy kissy.  I have offered up rewards for getting out of bed.  I have handed down punishment for not getting out of bed.  I have tried putting in an alarm clock, which he sleeps through.  For the most part I go in and gently shake him and tell him it’s time to get up.  He groans.  I tell him his choices for breakfast and he always chooses what I don’t have.  He groans.  I start breakfast then go back in to tell him a little bit firmer (and louder) that it is time to get up.  He groans.

By the time I finally get him out of bed he is running late and is mad at the world.  He is mad about picking out his clothes, he is mad about eating breakfast, he is mad because his sisters are in the bathroom (unfortunately the three of them share), he doesn’t want to go to school, he doesn’t want to ride the bus, he doesn’t want to do anything but put his head back under the covers.  Every morning he leaves the house with scowl on his face and thoroughly angry at me.

There are some mornings that I feel like I’m on the verge of snapping but at the same time I feel bad for my son and I hate the thought of him going to school in such a bad mood.  It can’t make for a very productive day.  Some mornings I am certain that I would be shouting at him at the top of my lungs if my husband wasn’t still sleeping (he’s not a morning person either and feels for the little guy).

Today he didn’t even tell me goodbye and almost missed the bus.  I have reached the end of my rope.  I don’t know what else to do.  It doesn’t matter what time he goes to bed, if I have to wake him, he is pissed.  I need some advice.  How do you get your kids out of bed in the morning?  There has to be some trick that I am missing out on.

Destiny

15 Jul

My husband and I grew up in different parts of Indiana.  He is from the north and I grew up right in the middle of the state.  We have been married for just over five years now and we live in my hometown.  His parents still live in his hometown.  There is a particular street sign that we pass every time we go to visit his family.

It makes me smile.

Each time we pass it I swear that the next time I am going to bring my camera and take a picture of it.  Well, I finally did!

One of these streets is my maiden name and the other is my married name.  So see, destiny!

What?!

3 Jul

So, she hasn’t written a post in over a year and suddenly she writes one that’s kind of a downer!
I know, sorry!
My husband recently asked why I quit writing on my blog. I didn’t have an answer. There are several blogs that I read and they share so much personal stuff. I wasn’t sure if that much sharing was for me and found that the only things I could think to write about might not be that interesting.
I decided I don’t care.
We have interesting things that are going on in our life and I want to share with you. I won’t be boring you on a daily basis just a few times a week.
So, forgive me for being absent so long. See you in a day or two.

Where’s My Mom?

2 Jul

Image

These are my parents.  Isn’t my Mom lovely?  Those glasses are so 1960’s, aren’t they?  My Dad was so handsome, my son looks just like him.

I have only a few vivid childhood memories of my Mom.

I remember begging to sit by her while she was working on the sewing machine and then proceeding to barf grape juice in our laps (I still do not drink purple grape juice).

I remember getting caught sticking my tongue out at cars that drove by my grandparents house and getting my bottom swatted.

I remember telling my Mom that my favorite toy, a wooden cow that mooed when you pulled it, was broken on one particular April Fool’s Day.

I remember showing her how I could do a cartwheel in the living room.

I remember her playing the piano at church.

I remember when she got sick.

I remember almost everything about the day when my Dad told me she had died.  I was 5.

I’m 43, I should be done grieving, right?  Mostly I am.  But, damn-it, there are some days that I just want my Mom!  I just know that if she was still here that I could pick up the phone and share with her how crazy the kids are making me today, or ask for a recipe, or plan to meet her for lunch and shopping, or ask her to come take care of me because I don’t feel well, or just talk about nothing at all.

Now, my Dad remarried and I was raised by a “Mom” and a Dad along with 2 sisters.  But it’s not the same, she was not my Mom.

I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, that’s not why I am sharing this with you.  Once I became an adult, there were many times I was very angry about losing my Mom at such a young age and I felt sorry for myself.  As I have matured, it has become clear to me that it has made me a better Mother.

Why? You ask.  Well, I will share one reason with you…….

My Step-Mother was not a “huggy-kissy” kind of mother.  And not just with me, she was never that way with my step-sisters either.  She is not a huggy-kissy Grandmother.  Me, I am a huggy-kissy kind of mother and I am sure when I have grandkids I will be a huggy-kissy Grandmother too.  This was something that I missed as a child.  All my friends had huggy-kissy Mom’s so I vowed to show that love to my kids when they came along.

My children know that I love them.  My 18 year old daughter still kisses me good-bye (and goodnight), we all tell each other “I love you”, we are very close.  I try to treat my children how I am sure my own mother would have treated me.

Sometimes I wonder if we would have even gotten along.  Would we have fought like cats during my teen-age years?  Would I have done the opposite of everything she said?  Maybe, maybe not.

I guess today I was just missing my Mom.  No reason.  I think about her every day.  I hope that she is proud of the woman I have become.  I know that she is up there watching over me and my family.  One day she will get to meet my wonderful husband, she will get to hug her grand-children, and sit down with me for that lunch.  Hopefully she loves sweet tea just as much as I do!

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