The Tortoise or the Hare

Have you ever had one of those moments in life when you want to crawl into your own little shell? Just call me turtle today. I don’t want to do anything. I don’t want to interface with anyone. I would like to fill the tank and drive far, far away. (But hopefully not lose my Jeep again – see yesterday’s post.)

Instead I am making the conscious effort to not make waves. Yes, I watched as my son was about to fry some sausage for breakfast. Yes, I knew it was Friday. Yes, I knew he’d slam down the pan if I told him. He’s old enough to know the day of the week as well deciding whether or not to adhere to the Lenten practice. As it turned out he was a little upset he forgot. Still, had I intervened it wouldn’t have been pretty.

There are so many things I wish that my sons would just do without being told to do them. The list is endless. I am tired of being Mom the Drill Sergeant. Yesterday I spoke with another mom with the same trouble; it’s universal. The snow has melted, the yard needs a clean up. Why can’t they see that and want to live in a tidy spot? They couldn’t care less. And I am quite tired of caring more.

But how to turn it off? I’m attempting a less hands-on approach as my young men grow older. I know they have to live and learn from all their experiences, but it’s hard to watch as they choose to live in a messy environment. Because I have to live here too! I wouldn’t care if they were messing up their own places. Towels draped on dining room chairs, underwear on the bathroom floor, dishes left unwashed. The list really is endless and quite depressing, so I am done dwelling on it.

I’m going out to lunch with my husband. We will come home to the same mess, but perhaps my attitude shall improve. I have been working on my small part of the house in my bedroom today. This serves a two-fold purpose: It keeps me away from the messy looneys and offers me a better atmosphere. I am conquering the many papers which have accumulated in my room. Then I shall re-arrange a few pieces of furniture. It may not shake the world, but it’s something – it’s an improvement of some kind, however small.

So like the tortoise, not the hare, I go…