Having “The Talk” With Your Kids

Have you had the talk with your kids?  No, not THAT talk—we had that ages ago, and the kids are well aware of that process, being on a farm.  The talk I am referring to is the “I am not your slave!” talk, and it might be more of a rant, a yell, or even an explosion, than an actual talk.

We have had that talk for several days in a row.  I’m convinced my kids appease me and think, “Mom’s just off her meds again, give her a couple of days” but I am just sick of feeling like B & I have to do everything around here!  Or, that the things that need to be done are MY responsibility, and if I ask someone to do it, then they are doing ME a favor.  If I ask them to clear their dishes from the table, then they are doing me a favor.  If I ask them to put their own laundry away, then they are doing me a favor.  I struggle to get them to understand that this home is OUR home, and we all have to work together to keep it clean and neat.

Teenagers are giant toddlers.  I think of a toddler as a huge liability in time and effort.  You dress them, and they get dirty.  You clean something up, you turn your back and the toddler has dumped it out again.  However, when we had toddlers, we knew what we were in for.  Some of us did not work outside of the home, and if we did, we lined up daycare.  We had seats that we could strap them into, so we could contain the mess.  They make bibs and babyproofing stuff for toddlers.

But it's different with teenagers.  They go through the house like a whirlwind, making messes and demands like a toddler, but there is no teenage proofing of your house.  They roar through this place and then need to go to football practice.  You can’t put them in a chair and tell them to sit still and not mess up their room.  Well, you CAN, but it doesn’t work.  Their messes are huger, their demands greater, and their attitude STINKS!  You can usually get a smile out of a toddler if you tickle their chin.  If you tickle your teenager’s chin, you usually get shrugged away and a dirty look.  They tell you they hate you, you’re unfair, you don’t understand, and they're running away.  Toddlers fall asleep on your chest, and you can snuggle their hair.

On the other hand, when the teenagers help, they really help.  They can pitch in and make a job go fast.  You can talk to them and they really "get it."  Therein lies the frustration.  I am just having trouble getting them motivated.  Don’t tell me about losing or gaining money or privileges, that doesn’t work for my kids.   What seems to work is to get them to understand where I am coming from, have compassion for my position, and make a change.  But so far, my ranting hasn’t helped.

Maybe they will come around.  Or at least I can count the days until they will be on their own and will learn about pitching in and helping (or doing it all themselves).  But, by then I will miss them terribly, them AND their messes.

oh.my.god.

i found a gray hair today.  my very first.

three down, three to go

Luna kidded last night, right as we were about to leave to do our civic duty.  Well, obviously we had to stay behind to help with the blessed event, and I came in the house to grab a cup to milk into about 8:30.  So the baby was born about 8:00 or so.  Momma did fine, but I am glad I was there.   She didn't want to push, so we made a deal that I would pull while she pushed.  It worked, and a sweet little girl was born in about 10 pushes.  She isn't the best mom, but she's trying and it will be fine.

I am tickled pink, as this is Wolfgang's 3rd set of kids, and out of 5 babies, we are 5 for 5 girls!!  I am glad that we are having healthy kids, but ecstatic that we are having girls!!

Now we need to get Aurora in gear.  She was due the 2nd.  Then I can have a life again until the end of January, when Wendy is due.

Happy Friday.  

Nineteen

Nineteen years ago, about this time, I gave my word.  

Nineteen years ago last night, I was on the last flight into the airport.  It was such a dense fog on New Year's Eve that the airport closed, but not before a divinely-guided pilot bravely brought our flight down in the hardest landing I've ever experienced.  We applauded him as we taxied to the gate.  

My love picked me up at the airport-- I had not seen him since before Thanksgiving, and missed him terribly. He sent my Christmas gift to my house, 2000 miles away, and it arrived well before Christmas.  It was a small box, most definitely jewelry.  He begged me to open it on Christmas Eve, and I was all too happy to do so, as I had stared at it for days wondering what it could be.  I knew it was too soon for a ring-- we had only been together for 18 months or so, and while we had been inseparable, we were only partially through our junior year of college.  Besides, he didn't have money for a ring.

No, it was not a ring for Christmas, but a beautiful pair of emerald and diamond earrings.  Very significant, as my birthstone is emerald, and I had, for years, hated the stone.  As I got older, I began to appreciate its beauty, and I had shared that with him, so it was very telling that he bought me my first piece of jewelry containing that beautiful stone.  I couldn't wait to thank him for being so thoughtful.

He was waiting for me at the airport that night, having driven in the dense fog the hour-plus trek to fetch me.  He was not daunted at all by the weather, nor was I, and all we could do was thank our lucky stars that we were finally together again.    Never mind that the hour was now after midnight, and we were welcoming in the new year as we drove back to campus.

I remember waking up the next morning, opening one eye and seeing his arm very close to my face, realizing that he had slept with both arms wrapped around me.  I never wanted to leave that embrace-- in his sleep even, he didn't let go, and I slept like a baby.  I didn't want to disentangle myself physically or emotionally from him ever again.

The campus was not yet buzzing, as we returned days before most students migrated back from winter break.  I was an R.A. that year, so I wanted to come back early to have a few days to mentally prepare before my charges moved back in for the second trimester.  My love and I found some friends on campus, likely folks who had "wintered" over on campus, maybe returning home for the holidays and scurrying back to resume research, or an off-campus job.  The group of us played a game of Monopoly, likely livened up by no shortage of libations.

He walked me back to my dorm after the game, wearing that ugly, pea-green, army coat.  I remember it vividly (he probably still has it-- and can fit into it!).  It had deep pockets, and when we got to my room, he reached into that coat and pulled out a box.  Another box!  His look was serious, and I didn't know what to expect.  Right then and there he asked me to marry him, and presented me with the most beautiful ring ever-- it was full of emeralds and diamonds, and it matched the earrings he bought me for Christmas.  I was stunned-- of course, I knew I wanted to be with him forever, but the moment a girl is proposed to is one where time stands still!  Nineteen years later, I can't recall what went through my head, but I recall that it was full of thoughts.  Would I marry him?  I could think of nothing I would rather be than B's wife.  I am sure that the split second I took to grasp the magnitude of his question seemed like an eternity to him.  After all, he was waiting for an answer!

I answered yes, of course, and the rest is an amazing story that is much stranger than fiction, for sure.

Happy anniversary, to my best friend in the whole world.  I would say yes again, even quicker, if I knew then what I know now!