How are you?

I hurt today.

Aside from an extremely stiff neck and aching shoulders, I've got this deep ache inside my chest. (No, it's not a heart attack.) You know that place just above where your sternum ends? There. Deep. Like something oily and heavy and dark has lodged itself in that spot. (No, Supernatural fans; I'm not possessed, either.) It's a multifaceted ache. Sadness. Stress. Pain. Exhaustion. Anger. Frustration.

I've often wondered why it is we get angriest with those whom we love the most? Why it is that they can hurt us more than anyone else we know? Why we will work our hardest to make them happy and do what we can for them - with little to no acknowledgement of the sacrifices we make for them - and yet, we continue? Death by 1000 cuts. Little, tiny hurts over an extended period of time can result in the same "death" as outright murder. Why? Why do we continue to do unto others even when they won't do the same unto you?

Because it's the right thing, that's why. No matter the hurt. No matter the sacrifice. Those we love, naturally, can hurt us the most because we love them the most. They're thoughts and opinions and deeds - misdeeds? non-deeds? - can injure us far more than anyone else's.

But when asked, "How are you?" your automatic response is, "Fine! How are you?" Deflection. I'm great, but let's talk about you now.

Wanting to have the energy - physical, emotional, and mental - to do all the things which need to be done, with a smile on my face, isn't too much to ask, is it?

TTFN
JMS

The beatings will continue until morale improves, or until your rooms are clean - whichever comes first

I called a Family Meeting last night to talk about some stuff that was bugging me and that I knew - or suspected - Hubby was struggling with, too. United front, and all that.

Hubby was cooking a fabulous meal (he's a fantastic cook, by the way, lucky us!) so while he finished what he was doing, I starting taking our bed apart because I wanted to wash the sheets, and get a couple other household chores out of the way.

Later, while we were eating, I presented my talking points.  Very generally, they were:

• Cleaning up
• Attitudes
• Mornings
• Responsibilities
• School Work
• Tablets
• Church
• Arguments
• Animals

Among other things. 

Hubby provided input as we went and was very supportive. (Thanks, babe!)

Basically, the message was this: You each have responsibilities. You each know what your responsibilities are. It is your job to do them, without constantly being reminded, or there will be consequences. Respect, when speaking to your parents or other adults, is required - no exceptions. Schoolwork is your priority. Church time is for church. And "No," does not mean a jumping-off point to start negotiations, it means, "No." Period.

I'd rather be the mean mom now while I still have a little bit of hope of molding my kids into decent adults. I'm their mom first, and their friend second.

I'm very lucky, though. Both my kids are comfortable talking to me - about pretty much anything - so I must be doing something right.

It's early yet, and the impact of this meeting has yet to really be tested and verified. But I can tell you this morning was much easier than yesterday morning. Boy-child got up, did what he was supposed to do - all of it - without being reminded every step of the way. Girl child still languished in bed acting the princess, but she didn't have an attitude problem. Both of these things I would consider vast improvements. 

Anyway - it will be what it will be. I can only hope I don't have to reiterate my message and that Hubby and I can finally have a little bit of peace from the chaos.

Wish us luck!

TTFN
JMS

Nag, nag, nag...

There's a saying that goes something like this: 'The hardest thing about being on a diet is shutting up about it."

I get that.  No one really wants to hear about what a pain in the butt it is to lose weight or your trials and tribulations toward a healthier (happier?) you.  Really – just eat the silly rabbit food and move on with your day.

Here's my (similar, yet not) saying: "The hardest part about giving your kids chores to do is waiting to see if the chores will get done without you having to nag the crap out of the kids."

The answer?  Nope.  They really won't do it if you don't bug them.

Therefore, please do not tell me to stop nagging because, aside from royally ticking me off, if I don't strongly encourage a thing to be done - with frustrating regularity - nothing (and I do mean nothing) will get done. Ever.

***

I decided it was finally time to start bribing…um…I mean giving my kids an allowance.  But, before you start wondering why I would do that if they're not doing anything, let me explain.

Boy child has a chart and a set of chores to do daily, and he gets a set amount of money (a small amount) per chore, per day.  He has the ability to earn up to $8.00 a week.  Boy child has been making a concerted – and voluntary – effort to get all his chores done before going to bed and seems to be excited about the prospect of earning a little bit of money.

Girl child also has a chart and a set of chores – same rules apply – and she has the ability to earn up to $6.00 a week.  (Different, age-appropriate chores + different kiddos = different allowance earnings.)  I do not anticipate she will earn the entire amount each week because she's not particularly enthused about the whole thing.  She does like the idea of being able to earn a little bit of money, but does not like the idea of having to do anything to get it. I have one word for you: Lazy. 

Bottom line – and they both know this – is that they must do the work or they do not get paid.  Also, mommy and daddy are not allowed to assist – their chores must be done by them.  The chores are not hard, and every single one of them is completely attainable – they just need to “buckle down” (I loathe that phrase, but it fits) and do the work.

So, I guess we’ll just have to see what happens. I'm not holding my breath, though.  Wish me luck, will ya?

(I wonder if a chore chart for hubby would work?  Kinda like a honey-do list, only with regular, daily chores – and he wouldn’t get paid.  No?  Yeah…I thought not.  Was worth a try.)

TTFN

JMS

Not just a house...

I tend to spend quite a bit of time thinking things over before I do anything about them, especially if those things are important.  I like spontaneity, but I’m a better planner.  Having said as much, I explained to my family the other evening about how I have spent several days ruminating on multiple things and arrived at a conclusion: these several things all stem from one, single thing.

Allow me to explain.

I am not a neat freak.  I prefer things to be neat and tidy, and I am a little (ha ha) obsessive about organization, but unfortunately, my house has never, ever reflected these tendencies.   If I was on my own, I would most likely have no problem making sure my living space…well…lived up to my particular standards.  But I am not on my own.  I have a husband and two children.  Let me just say: it's hard to be two adults raising two children in a barely-over-1000-square-foot home with one potty.

Anyone with children understands no matter how old those children are, you always seem to be cleaning up after them in one way or another.  They also tend to go right behind you to wreak havoc on any spot you just cleaned.  It is their way.  Up until now, I've barely kept my head above water when it comes to the state of my house.  Ok, who am I kidding?  My house is a DISASTER AREA!  No, really – it is.  I could make the full-time job excuse, but said excuse would be labeled avoidance. 

Boxes are stacked in the living room due to items we have no place to store, yet, for whatever reason, refuse to get rid of.  We are not hoarders by any stretch of the imagination, but to the innocent bystander it may easily be misinterpreted.  With regard to clothes, we lack storage of the closet kind and of the dresser kind, too.  Granted, we desperately need to go through our clothes (all of us) and reduce, reuse, recycle.  Kids grow.  Clothes simply stop fitting.  Why, please tell me, do we need to keep the ones which no longer fit? You get the picture.

The washing machine complains about every load we feed it and expresses its displeasure by leaking water all over the kitchen floor.  The dryer sneakily vents warm air around the seams at the door and in other places it thinks we don't know about.  The refrigerator is cracked and broken in several places.  Who can afford to replace three major appliances at once, might I ask?  Certainly not I. (Sorry – just needed one small paragraph to whine a little bit.  I’m done now.)

Anyway – last night I read aloud a letter I had written to my family about some desperately needed changes within our family and with our daily routine.  Up until now, we have been inconsistent with our kids about chores they are responsible for.  Those inconsistencies ended last night.  Each kid (adult kids included) now has a clearly-defined list of expectations.  Mommy (that’s me) also made it clear there would be no more excuses allowed.  This sounds harsh, but it was presented in a positive light; the best way I knew how: by writing it out.  Here's just one small portion of the letter, shown to you as an example:

"I am sorry, but I will no longer be OK with complaining or excuses.  This is our family.  This is our home.  We are all responsible.  We are a team.  I would be perfectly happy to get rid of it all and start from scratch, but I don’t think that will be necessary.  I think we can do it!"

We'll see how well this goes over, but I know very well I made an impression on everyone.  I am hoping 2015 can be a year of good, positive changes, and one of those changes will be making our home into a place not just where we sleep, but where we live.

TTFN
JMS

Random Rant *or* Angry At The World

I know when someone is mad at me.  I may not always understand the reasons why, but I have no doubt I messed up somewhere.  I just wish, when I've hurt or offended someone in some way, they’d tell me what I've done.  If I don’t know what I’ve done to hurt you, I can’t make it right.  It bothers me deeply to know I've hurt someone, but not know how or why.  I dislike hurting people, immensely, and I certainly don’t wake up in the morning and think, “Hm…who can I mess with today?”  And please don’t tell me, “You know what you did!” expecting me to know, because half the time I can’t remember my own name and the other half I can’t remember what I had for dinner the night before.  I’m not trying to be flippant, or glib, but I think we’d all be much better off if we communicated with one another; especially when an offense is involved.

Hubby seems to think I worry too much about people being mad at me.  When I ask, “Are you mad at me?” he gets upset and says, “Why do you always think you’re the one I’m upset with?” Mainly because he’s always mad at me for one thing or another (that's marriage, I guess) but also because body language speaks volumes and the silent treatment doesn't usually happen unless there’s an issue.

But here's the current issue that's plaguing me: I don’t understand all this anger I've got within myself right now.  I’m FURIOUS AT EVERYTHING!  I’m trying not to be.  I’m making a concerted effort to speak kindly or at least politely.  Counting to ten when I feel myself on auto-response and leaning toward pissed off.  I’m trying to temper…uh…my temper.  I’m trying to clear my mind of all the nasty things rolling around inside of me, without much luck. 

The other day, I was drinking a nice glass of white wine from a lovely winery in Townsend, TN (Cades Cove Winery).  I don’t remember exactly what else I was doing – cleaning, I think – but I was so angry!  Everything I saw, everything I touched just made me mad.  I was slamming around and snapping at everyone.  My poor family was hiding from me.  Eventually, hubby confiscated my glass of wine (which made me mad) and replaced it with a large mug of freshly-brewed chamomile tea (which confused me, and pleased me all at the same time).  I guess it was bedtime for Bonzo.  

I’m still mad.  I still want to lash out.  I don’t feel like being pleasant and friendly.  I want to rail against the universe and I can’t understand why.  Folks may say it's grief talking, which is a possibility, though I think probably unlikely.  Or the depression which has been setting in for a while now and which I’m fighting tooth and nail.  Which is probably why I’m angry.  But it doesn't matter.

And, since we were just discussing cleaning while angry, I need to say I would very much like to get one of those small bobcat bulldozer thingies and ‘doze everything (EVERYTHING) out of my house and start over.

TTFN
JMS

When is Early Too Early?

There’s been a story out of Maryland about a couple, parents who let their children walk a mile home from the park – alone.  I was asked yesterday what I thought about that particular news tidbit and I really had to struggle to answer.  I may lose some of my beloved readers over this, but please remember, you’re here precisely because you want to know what I think. ;)

While I understand what these parents are trying to do (teach responsibility and give their kids a modicum of freedom) I do not believe that at 10 years and 6 years old, those kids are quite ready for that kind of freedom and responsibility.  Had they allowed their kids to walk home “alone” by staying about 50 feet behind them, then maybe the semblance of being alone may have been enough for these young children.  And maybe it would have been enough for the parents to feel like they had accomplished what they’d set out to do.  And maybe the police wouldn't have packed these little kiddos into their cruiser and this whole thing could have been avoided.

I think about how my kids are very similar in age to the two children in the story.  And then I think, “What would I do?”  Well, I’m sorry, but it wouldn't have happened to begin with.  I trust my kids, and I trust that if they said, “We’re just going to go from this place to this place,” they would do exactly that.  It’s other people I don’t trust.  The mother in the story said, “The world is actually even safer than when I was a child, and I just want to give them the same freedom and independence that I had — basically an old-fashioned childhood.”  And while on the surface that sounds logical and reasonable, it’s B.S. if you ask me.  Yeah – we got kicked out of the house and told, “Go play!  Come back when the street lights come on or when you hear me whistle, whichever comes first.”  And we’d go collect our friends and take advantage of that great invention called Outside.  But I really do believe that my ten year old is too young to wander around on his own. 

Sometimes they walk two houses down to see if the neighbor girl can play for a bit, and yeah – admittedly – it makes me nervous.  But then for the most part, they play in our back yard.  It used to make me a nervous wreck to allow the kids to hit the restroom at a restaurant by themselves, and when they were really little, we absolutely went with them to make sure things like hand-washing happened.  But now that they’re older, it doesn’t bug me as much.  I let my son take the small inside recycle bin outside to the big recycle bin at the curb all by himself.  He’s good about it.  I trust him.

It’s other people I don’t trust.

And while we’re on the subject of my son being able to do certain things – I have decided the kid is now old enough to do his own laundry.  Hey – if you want to teach responsibility, there’s an excellent place to begin.  This started when on Thursday night, at bedtime, he says, “Mom, you've gotta do my laundry.  I don’t have any clean clothes.”  And my brain seized up.  I felt my eye twitch.  I gave him that Mom look that every mother perfects within the first two years of the life of her child.   And he knew he’d said something wrong.  He said, “Well, I think I can probably find something.  Never mind.”

Wise child.

Then this morning, before church, he said, “Mom!  You’ve really gotta do my laundry!”  Well I’d had it.  I showed him an entire top bunk bed full of clean, folded (mostly) clothes that had yet to get put away.  Yes, he’s got the three or four things that he really loves to wear and when they’re all dirty that means he has no clothes to wear.  (sigh)  So I showed him this pile, said, “I’m sure you can find something there.  And later this afternoon, I am going to show you how to do your own laundry.  That way, when you have no clean clothes, it’s all on you kiddo.”

Then I was the recipient of the withering look.

Anyway – my point of all this is yes, I think those parents who allowed their kids to walk home alone were wrong, even though I understand why they did it.  Those children are just too young.  Give it a couple more years and maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be such a big deal.

TTFN
JMS

Urine a Top Secret Bathroom

I’m trying to come up with something funny to say about peeing in a cup. Aside from the fact that peeing in a cup is just funny all by itself. Then there’s the whole Uncomfortable Level of Intimacy with Total Strangers thing. I sense a blog post coming on.

So there you are, scheduled to pee into a cup, sitting in the waiting room…waiting. Longer than you really want to because you haven’t peed in preparation for this test so your bladder is screaming at you while you wait. (The flip side of this coin is knowing you have to pee in a cup and not being able to. That’s torture, too.) You’re trying to sit there, all calm, cool, and collected – projecting the appropriate level of professionalism even while waiting to pee in said cup.

At some point, someone moves you a little further down the hall. You think, “I’m getting closer,” and, hopeful, continue to sit…and wait. You tamp down your suffering and sit quietly.

Soon, someone hands you a piece of paper which you are instructed to read and which contains top secret information regarding how the sample collection process will take place. Top Secret. I can say nothing further.

When you are finally called back, a nice lady leads you to a giant galvanized steel box with an enormous pad lock. She opens the box and, after requesting to view your photo identification card, she instructs you to place your purse in the box. Do you have anything in your pockets? Um…nope. (Good grief – you know this is about me. I’m changing person now. Please keep up.) I usually only use my pockets for my hands and as a display of ease in any given situation. I demonstrate, and they are impressed with my innate ability to look casually at ease. I confirm that I am not carrying anything that could possibly be used to tamper with the sample I am about to provide for them, and place my purse in the steel box. Nice lady locks the box, hands me the key. Now you have something for your pocket besides your hand.

She takes me back and goes through the Top Secret procedure, explaining what each thing is during the course of the entire process. She must do this, and further, she requires me to keep an eye on my own specimen so as to ensure that it is not tampered with.

Then she hands me a cup. Not a cannot-see-through-it cup. A clear, plastic, totally-can-see-everything-inside sample cup. No cover. No labels. She leads me to a secure door. It baffles me that she has to swipe her badge to gain access a bathroom, but I just go with it. I’m cool, remember? She instructs me to fill the cup to here and not to flush, then to bring the sample back to her. I have four minutes to complete this process. The hardest part of this whole process, besides suffering the full bladder, was the excruciating effort it took to restrain myself from automatically flushing the toilet. There was a piece of paper over the handle which reminded me, but walking away was torture.

When I’m through (details omitted to protect the innocent) I open the door and begin The Walk down the hallway, past other waiting victims, with my clear, plastic, now-pee-filled cup. I cannot have any shame.

Once I return, she verifies an acceptable temperature of my specimen and continues to walk through the process both physically (labeling and capping my sample) and verbally (explaining what each thing was to be used as evidence against us. Oh! Wait! Sorry. I just lapsed into Arlo Guthrie’s Alice’s Restaurant.)

Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork. Sign away my life’s blood, and agree to offer up my first child as sacrifice…(not really).

After retrieving my purse from the giant steel box I am allowed to leave. And though I know, in my heart and in my mind, that I have absolutely nothing to worry about with regard to the outcome of this entire process, I know that upcoming Good Things are totally contingent upon an acceptable outcome so of course, I am doing the Jen Thing and waiting on the other shoe to drop.

(sigh)  And now, we wait.

TTFN
JMS

File under: "Really? Just...Really?"

The article that sparked this blog post

Spain: Children 'must do housework' under draft law

Spanish children may soon be required to help out with housework, under a draft law that has been approved by parliment.

The measure, which would be part of a wider child protection law, says that children under the age of 18 have an obligation to participate in all areas of family life.  That includes "co-responsibility in caring for the home and performing household tasks regardless of age and gender", the ABC newspaper says.  The rules come under a section of the law called "the rights and duties of children".

Along with doing chores, children would also have to be respectful to their parents and teachers, and have a positive attitude towards learning.  But the bill doesn't say anything about penalties for children who refuse to go along, the Local website reports.  Other elements of the bill would see the establishment of a list of people who are banned from working with children, and it would become a crime for people who work with children to fail to report possible abuses against them.

Married Spanish men can also face legal sanctions for refusing to do housework - an update in 2005 to the marriage contract used for the country's civil ceremonies added a clause requiring men to share in household duties, and care for the children of elderly relatives.

Link to article: http://www.bbc.com/news/blogs-news-from-elsewhere-27187982

I'm going to wait here, so you can have a few seconds to recover from the shock, amazement, confusion, or mirth (take your pick).

(Hums Jeopardy theme...)

Better now?  Good.  Let's discuss this. 

First, I think it's an excellent idea to make your children help you around the house.  Provided you don't think of them as personal slave labor, it's all good.  I believe that teaching children to help with household chores builds character (yes, I am turning into an adult even as I type) and allows a child grow into themselves; into a responsible grown-up.  (I believe that cleaning one's room is vital to success - but that's a whole other issue.)

I think, too, that parents should require their children to be respectful to everyone.  Period.  End of sentence.  Respect requires work, by parents and by other adults that have role-model-type relationships to the children.  To show respect is to teach respect.  So if you, the adult, are disrespectful, so will be the child.

I do not think, however, that there needs to be a law to make this happen.  I believe it's going to backfire pretty quickly if they pass it and they'll have to just go back to the drawing board.  Government (in whatever form) should not parent your child; YOU should.

Secondly, I think that anyone, regardless of whatever laws there may be, who does not report possible or suspected abuse to a child should be punished, too.  You may not be the abuser, but if you even suspect abuse it is your responsibility as an adult and as a human being to report it.  Again, PERIOD.  End of sentence.

Thirdly, and admittedly, I like the idea of establishing a list of people who are banned from working with children.  They, meaning these lists, should be prevalant (to quote Mirriam-Webster: generally or widely accepted, practiced or favored: widespread) and accessible to anyone.  But, though we have sex offender registry and websites that can help the average Joe or Jane find out if a sex offender lives in their area, does that automatically guarantee full compliance?  Or new offenders?  Nope. 

Then there's this other thing - that, to me, seems almost unrelated - of this 2005 update to the marriage contract...requiring men to share in household duties and the care of children and elderly relatives.  Ok, seriously, stop laughing.  (Wait, I have to stop laughing, too.)  They had to make a law or whatever to get men to assist in household duties?  Is there any documentation?  Are there numbers that can support the success of said law?  Yeah - don't bog yourself down in the details here, I realize that nowhere did it say this was a "law" and that it's simply written into the marriage contract but did they really think it was going to help?

I have so very many things I would like to say on the subject of men vs. household chores but I think, in the interest of maintaining my reputation as a clean and (for the most part) family-friendly blogger, I ought to keep my yap shut.  You can draw your own conclusions.  However, feel free to comment to your heart's content - we may be able to open a broader discussion here.

TTFN
JMS