anger · family · happiness · home · parenting

what my family is really bad at

You know what my family is really bad at?  Reading my mind.

Don’t they know that when I pick up their shoes and put them on the shoe shelf for the 3rd time that day, what I am really saying is, “Put your dang shoes where they belong!” And when I pick up their wet towels from off of their bedroom floors, what I am telepathically communicating to them is, “Hang your bleepin’ towels up!  I am not your maid!”  Apparently they think that because I occasionally do these things for them, I am their maid.  Maybe I need to re-think my strategy.  Hmmm.

I attempt to wake the boys up several times each morning.  They ignore my sweet voice and the little back rub.  I think that they think the cooing voice and the tender touch means, “Go ahead and sleep it up, sweetie!  There’s no hurry!”  When they finally do come down stairs, and we have missed the opportunity to have scripture study – AGAIN – don’t they see that my silence is actually screaming out, “Why, after years and years of getting up early for school, can you not just get yourself going and get yourself downstairs in time for breakfast and scripture study!”  I get so tired of being ignored.  I get so tired of repeating myself over and over and over again.  I am not the yelling type.  I don’t want to be the yelling mom.  I want to be the mom who lovingly reminds her children, and, because her kids respect her so deeply, runs an organized, clean, and on-time household.  Is that too much to ask?  But alas, my family has very short term memories, and, as I mentioned, they can’t read my mind, and so I guess it’s time for another sit-down with them.  Will they look at me like I am a broken record?  Will they be grateful to me because they know that I care?  Will they one day respect me?

Yesterday, I wanted to throw it all away.  I wanted to give up and ignore the chaos and mess forever.  I promised myself that, no matter what, I would attempt to wake them up only once, and let them miss their precious before-school activities, should they choose to move like molasses and not get down stairs in time.  (And by the way, why am not making them get themselves up with their own alarm clock?  That’s topic for a whole other conversation.) I swore I would never attempt to have morning scripture study again.  EVER!  I was going to show THEM!

Today is a new day.  I feel better.  I guess moms throw fits too.  I want my family to just know what I need.  You know what I mean? I want them to want what I want.  But, I suppose, until someone invents a mind reader for children, and until everything that is important to me is also important to them, I had better act my age – and let them act theirs.

And I suppose, too, that I should try to get more sleep.


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