The laundry fairy

This morning there was a commotion at the palace.

The prince said he did not want to go to school because his royal robes were filthy. Apparently this was the fault of the palace’s royal laundry fairy who didn’t sprinkle the garments with the magic dust that makes them pristine once again.

The royal family was told time and time again that only the soiled garments in the royal hamper will be collected for the sprinkling. The garments will not be collected from the floors of the royal chambers.

Friday night the prince put loads of dirty clothes from the past couple weeks into the hamper with expectations that they would be magically cleaned by the next morning. But Saturday morning, the laundry fairy flew off at the crack of dawn to run a half marathon. Then later that day, the laundry fairy had plans with friends. On Sunday, the laundry fairy only washes towels because that is what the laundry fairy does on that particular day.

Monday morning there weren’t any magically cleaned clothes for the prince and a verbal joust ensued.

The prince can put his filthy garments in the hamper every day or the prince can do his own laundry! What a royal pain!

The prince wore dirty clothes to school today.

 

Run off

Today I had my first run after taking a week off. I ran 5 miles wearing an ankle brace. It wasn’t totally pain free, but it was feeling better than before. At this time, I decided to keep my leg in watch mode. I hate being in watch and see what happens mode. I want answers. I want solutions. I hate uncertainty.

I was doing some reading online about stress fractures. It said that women in their 40’s were more likely to get stress fractures from running due to brittle bones. Milk was a rarity in our house growing up, so I do worry about it.

Over the week I’ve had off of running, I could feel my mood plummet. There was one morning I woke up crying. I’ve wanted to withdraw from people and write my stories. I seem to feel the need to tell you the dreary and sad stories. But I don’t want to make you feel sad when reading them. It is a conundrum.

I’ve also felt edgy and irritable at times. I have to work extra hard to make sure my filter is on before I speak.

I got into arguments with my kids this morning which is unusual. I think it was justified.

I got into Arabella’s case for getting up 5 minutes before the bus came to pick her up. She didn’t even have time to take a shower.

I got into an argument with Alex too. Arabella and Alex are staying after school for after school activities. I asked Alex to bring Arabella home. He said that he didn’t want to wait for her since his activity let out before hers did. Now I have to pick her up.

I don’t ask a lot from my kids. But when I do ask, I expect them to do it. I usually don’t give them chores over the school year like I do in the summer. I feel very conflicted about this.

As children, my brothers and I had a long list of chores. At first, I worked outside with my brothers until I almost hurt myself carrying a really huge log to impress my parents. After that, I was no longer allowed to do outdoor work. As soon as I was tall enough to reach the clothes line, I was in charge of the family laundry. I also had to help my mother make meals…grating carrots, washing and cutting vegetables..simple boring stuff, and I was in charge of cleaning the kitchen.

There is a part of me that wants my kids to be children. I want them to have something I didn’t have, a childhood. There will be enough to do around the house when they are adults. They will figure it out.

Plus I am always fighting myself with wanting things to be done right. No one else knows how to do things right like I do. I really don’t know why I need to feel some sort of control over things that probably don’t matter. Who cares if the towels are folded wrong?? Or if the Teflon pan ends up in the dishwasher?? Apparently I do!

All I ask of my children is to keep a clean room and pick up after themselves a little. This is certainly not done up to my standards.

When I do ask for help, I expect a gracious response. Of course, I will help you mother. After all, I pay for my son’s gas for the car I bought for him to use. Although that may be coming to an end soon.

I tried to give my children everything I didn’t have and probably ended up spoiling them.

My son also said unkind words about his sister. He is now going out with a popular girl. He does not want to be seen with his unpopular sister. He said that he didn’t want to do her any favors, but I told him that it would be me he was helping. I have no sympathy for his embarrassment.

When I was his age, my brother was exposing himself to my friends. He also attacked my best friend which basically resulted in the end of our friendship.

What did you say about being embarrassed by your sister again?? Maybe I’ll throw that one in his face during our next argument.

I really need to get back into running hard core. I am starting to feel the bat $#!+ crazy coming on….!

 

 

Road trip

Angel and I decided to go on a little road trip.

Tomorrow is Angel’s freshman college orientation. Then we are heading to Wisconsin Dells for one full day at the water park. We are ending the road trip with my cousin’s wedding in Milwaukee this weekend. 

It was a long and fairly uneventful several hour drive to Angel’s new home. We saw the smallest little Bambi come out to us in the middle of the road without hitting it. We saw Amish children working in their gardens while the Amish men were working their fields with several large horses. I saw a very large man cross the road to get his mail in shorts. Little images stick in my head from the road. The men at the first stop and go light holding signs asking for change for a burger wearing better clothes than mine. The waitress at the restaurant who exchanged numbers with my daughter because they would be attending the same college together for the first time in the fall. The rest was a blur of people, places, and things but mainly fields. Field after field as we wound through small towns.

I left a list behind. A list of things that I do. Chores that need to be done on certain days. I entertain this fantasy that the others can’t live a few days without me. You would be proud of me, I let go of perfectionism when it comes to chores. I let the kids help out. I give them chore lists. I also implemented a cooking rotation. The kids get to pick out the recipe, shop for ingredients, help make the food, and clean up one day a week one kid at a time. I have given up a lot of control.

I remember a conversation with the mom of Alex’s first girlfriend. She told me that she does not allow her children to do anything because they don’t do it up to her standards. No laundry, no cleaning, and absolutely no cooking. She said that she was OCD that way. I thought about the words she said for a long time, in fact longer than the relationship lasted. I thought that I didn’t want my kids to end up marrying someone that didn’t know how to do anything. Then I pointed the finger back at myself because I really was the same way. I never wanted my kids to do anything either because it really wasn’t perfect enough. How is that going to prepare them for the future?? It doesn’t. So I decided to let go.

I give them chores and I look the other way when it is not clean enough. Sometimes I rewash the dishes. Some of my kids seem to realize that their lack of cleanliness bothers me. Sometimes they do a crappy job in hopes that they will no longer be asked. But it doesn’t work that way. 

I think that everyone will survive just fine without me for a few days. After all, they will be living a long adulthood without mommy being there to clean up their messes. 

I am planning on enjoying this road trip and spending some time with my daughter as adults all alone on an adventure…