I’m an adult. I was raised in a take-responsibility-for-your-actions kind of family. So I know it’s wrong to blame my misfortunes on others. But in this case, it really is their fault. Had I not spent all that time around smart, well-adjusted, home-schooled kids I wouldn’t have (re)entertained the notion of homeschooling my own kids. And if I hadn’t thought, “I can do it, I know I can,” the world wouldn’t have felt the need to crush me until I whispered half-drunk from my bed, ”I’m sorry. I’ll never think I’m better than the public school system again, I promise.“
But I did spend the time. And I was floored by the kids. And I did over-inflate my imagined abilities and consider it (again). I mean, why couldn’t I do it?
Well, I’ll tell you why. 1.) I’m not a teacher. 2.) It would require being home with my kids all day, every day. Like summer, but without a September. 3.) It would require my children being home with each other all day, every day. Like summer, but without playdates. 4.) See also reasons 1 & 2 & 3.
And even though it’s been ages since my last !!! (Intentional Happiness) post, and even though I no longer have !!! cards, I needed to force myself to find something positive from the pit of my hellish week. So since it was words that brought me down–whiny, ill-tempered, mean, accusatory, maddening words–I focused on words that made me feel good.
Free Slurpee Day. Three refreshing (and free) words to bribe and quiet the kids. They also provided another opportunity for them to witness my absolute favorite flavor of any candy-like substance. Purple.
This turned out to be important information for them to possess, as they used it to their advantage one of the (many) times they apologized this week. It was a two-fold apology. First for their heinous behavior, and second for the fact that they had a goodie bag hidden on the porch, where they were forbidden to keep anything edible. It’s hot enough to melt crayons out there in the summer. And also? It’s home to our spring, summer and fall visitors.
It’s nice to know I’m not the only female in the house who binges on chocolatey words when she’s stressed. Though I assure you, as bad as this week got, I didn’t leave pellets on the counters and floors and stovetop when I snuck around in the kitchen after hours to eat.
And it’s not like I was only eating candy. Oh no. Since receiving a recipe for *the best* guacamole from a dear friend (only part of which you see here) I’ve pretty much eaten this dip all week. It’s been healing on so many levels. One–it’s delicious. Two–it’s green and has vegetables in it. Three–it’s green and my kids don’t want me to share it. Or be near me while I eat it. Or ten minutes after I finish eating it because they claim I still smell like it. I hope I do.
It’s not like they didn’t know I was mad. They knew. I don’t fake well. Plus ONE handed me this and said, “This is you.”
Also me? This little dandy I stared up at while hiding from my kids in the bathroom. Look familiar?
And since Disney doesn’t mislead or exaggerate, I know that while my girls and I struggle our way through being together, in the end I’ll look equally as young, have better skin tone, and a smaller head than they do.
And in the meantime? I know they love me.
And I love them.