May. 27th, 2011

lemon_says: (Balls)
I read this article this morning, and I have to say, no, I don't feel that way.

You get what you settle for, even as a mother. If you are the one doing everything around the house and can't even have a hobby, you put yourself in that position. If your husband or kids can't clean the litterbox, don't have a cat. I don't pay my kids for chores because everybody who lives here has to work. If your husband won't get up with the baby, you chose poorly.

I can't believe how many people are agreeing with her, honestly. It's never even occurred to me to begrudge my kids if they eat the last eggs. Yeah, I eat the broken cookie or the ugly slice of pie, but it all tastes the same.

This attitude just comes across as ugly to me. There are times I get frustrated because I am the only person who lives here who will not step over a washcloth on the floor for days (yes, I did that experiment), or who doesn't see every flat surface as a place to drop everything. I don't consider a box of screws on the mantle to be ornamental, and piling clothes on top of the dollhouse if I can't find space in a drawer would never occur to me; however, I also don't have to fix the washer, kill bugs, replace the front door, clear the drains, or take out the trash. Usually I don't even put gas in my car. (And when I do I send a melodramatic email that says something like went to store, but have no gas. Pick us up on your way home...)

And finally, I don't have to get up in the cold and drive an hour commute to a job in a florescent-lit, over-air-conditioned office with a bunch of people who might not even like me, to perform the same tasks over and over for little appreciation. So yeah, it can be annoying to have to explain twice a week the drawer organization system, but I don't ever have to consult the legal department, and nobody ever throws me under the bus to save his own ass.

But then, I'm not married to an asshole, and I'm not raising selfish little brats, either.

So no, lady, I don't sympathize. Even though there was a storm last night, which meant I was wedged between a clingy girl and a boy whose idea of snuggling resembles the alligator death roll, and even though the phrase I probably utter most is "what did I just say," I can honestly say I don't have bitter moments. I get frustrated, and I get angry, but mostly I laugh. And I still have time to knit.
lemon_says: (Luchadores)
On the way to my parents' house, the kids like for me to tell them stories about them. Sometimes it's hard to think up stories they haven't heard before, but this morning I remembered this one, and it still makes me laugh to look at this photo.

When Anya was barely 4, she took ballet. She HATED it. She wouldn't wear the shoes or a leotard, so there was always a row of girls in tutus and then mine, in a hoodie (pulled up and tight around her face) and rubber rain boots. She stuck it out because the second half of the class was gymnastics, but she could do without the ballet part.

When you add that to her dislike of being onstage with people looking at her, you can imagine how her recital went.

Ez, then one, had been to every class and watched through the window. WHen it came time for the performance, Anya hid under the chair. Ez was happy to step in as her understudy.
Photobucket

He's a little frustrated with me for not putting him in drama camp again this summer, so I have GOT to find that child a stage somewhere. They've got Bible school next week and he asked this morning, with great hope in his voice, "Will there be a performance?"

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