OK. So here's a little story before I get to my planned post:
Last night, my dear sweet man took the twins to a campout with the stars (I think we're renaming it Campout with the Ticks, but that's just gross, so I won't talk about that...) and my father-in-law hung out with Peanut #3, so I just had Fussy (and let me TELL you, that girl was F.U.S.S.Y., but that, too, is another story.) So, I'm home, basically 'alone' (so glad I have that mangy mutt. I mean cute puppy cuz) I sat down to type out this post and BAM. All the lights, air, electricity, my peace...and maybe my undies...went out! I had visions of The Mass Murderer coming to my door, since, you know, he'd cut out the whole grid of my subdivision to do his bid'ness. All I can say is: THANK GOD FOR THE DOG. That, and that the lights came back on ('soon' being a relative term) after that.
Now, on to
Accountability.
Du-Du-Du-Dah! (*cue music*)
In my last (meaningful) post, I wrote about motherhood. How it's the toughest job you'll ever love. (And this ain't the Army, people...although somehow they teach even wayward young men and women how to make hospital corners and I can't convince my little sweeties not to throw their ice cream wrappers on my living room floor...) (And we have NEW CARPET - EAT in the KITCHEN!!! ... oh sorry. I reverted to Mommy for a minute vs. Cool, Sophisticated, Writer Person)
A-hem.
So, it's hard. Motherhood.
But you know, it's really not OK to make that 'hardship' a burden to your kids. You know. The baby tags along behind you while you straighten the teddy bears and lost pajama bottoms and rip the sheets from the bed (only to find her emptying the 180+ markers onto the floor) and then she follows you while you pick up 180+ markers (only to find she's unrolling the T.P. onto the bathroom floor) and then she follows you while you're picking up the T.P. (only to find that she's rearranging the towels from the linen closet onto the floor...). But it's not OK to scream: You're making my life HARD!
No. It's really not. (And I didn't do that, by the way.) Because I know that the Bible says, yes, children, obey your parents. But also, it says Parents, don't be a burden to your kids! (Well, specifically, it says: 'Fathers [MOTHERS, too!], do not exasperate your children; instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord.' (Ephesians 6:4)
The 'Accountability' mentioned above has two parts. One, sometimes we need to listen to other mommies and say, 'yes. It is hard.' And sometimes we need to listen to Mommies and remind them that 'Love is patient. Love is kind...' And we really need God's discernment to know which time goes with which loving, Christian friend. Because, HELLO. Get the log out of your own eye before you tell your friend she's got a splinter in hers.
(In my head, that concept was a whole lot deeper. Now on to the REALLY deep stuff)
I love icee mochas. I think I've said that before. Well, at least in my profile, if you've ever read it. Or if you know me. After buying 'so many' icee mochas at my Favorite Place, you get a free one. First of all, Hubby says Nothing's Free. Whatev. I don't pay for the free one, so it's still free to me. And I get them free about once every two weeks. (Yes. That's a lot.) My new plan? One free one for the rest of the summer. That means only one icee mocha per week. Oh. my. Gosh.
I wasn't going to tell him. Yeah, yeah. It might be because I've told him before that I was quitting and he probably laughed me right out of the room, so I didn't want to face that humiliation again, and I decided I was only going to tell you. My pretend friends. The ones inside my computer. Computer people can't laugh (so's you hear 'em, anywho). So, it sounded like a good deal to me. I have people to be accountable to, and they can't laugh at me when I fail.
BUT I am NOT going to fail! I officially went 1 and 1/2 days without an icee mocha already. Until this afternoon. And the burden of picking 6 ticks off my beloved offspring did me in. But I digress.
So, here it is.
I shall have no icee mochas until Next Saturday. (that's not a holiday, right? Like, I can still go Saturday morning and get my fix I mean my coffee...OK, yes. That would be the 5th...although, oh holy moly. 4th of July parade without coffee....(insert *sweat*)...
Deep Breaths.
In.
Out.
OK. Ladies. Game on.
Coffee out.
