The Mom: "We need to leave in about 5 minutes. Is your bed made?"
15 yr old Angsty Son: "Yup."
The Mom: "Pleeeeeeeeese, oh, please, don't say "yup." You sound like a baby coyote. Say, "Yes, Mom."
15 yr old Angsty Son: "Yup. I'm kidding! Yes, Mom."
The Mom: "So. The bed is made. Your bed is made."
15 yr old Angsty Son: "Yup."
The Mom: ".........audible extended puffy sigh............"
The Mom: "So. If I go upstairs now, to your room, and look at your bed, it'll be made. Is that right?"
15 yr old Angsty son: "Yup."
The Mom: "................second audible extended puffy sigh.........."
The Mom: "Okay, then, let's go take a look."
15 yr old Angsty Son: "I told you. It's made."
The Mom: "Then this'll be good, right? Let's go look at your made bed together."
15 yr old Angsty Son: "It's made. I know what a made bed looks like. I don't have to go see what a made bed looks like. Maybe you need to go see what a made bed looks like...I don't. Especially when I'm the one who made it."
Baby E: "Ooooohhhhooooo!....owned!"
15 yr old Angsty Son: "High 5, baby bro..."
The Mom: "No. Don't encourage that, Baby E. You go finish breakfast, I'm talking to Alec."
The Mom: "Alright then, Bedmaker Man. I'll go up and look, and if it's not made, you will make it before school, got it?"
15 yr old Angsty Son: "You said to make the bed, You asked if I made the bed. I made it."
The Mom: "I'm going up now. To look at your made bed. And if it's not made..."
15 yr old Angsty Son: "It.is.made.Mom."
The Mom: "Going up now. Up the stairs. Last chance. I'm on my way. I hope you're not late because you have to makeyour.............. ALEXANDER!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Perfectly Made Bed
15 yr old Angsty Son: "You asked if it was made, you didn't ask if it was Perfectly Made."
Gender disappointment.There's even a name for it. It's when a small corner of you is wistful for a daughter, or son, that you didn't have.
How many parents harbor a smidgeon of this wish? 3 out of 4, according to a survey I came across.
Today, I guest post at LifeWithoutPink, and discuss gender disappointment. Do you have it, have you gotten over it? Are you at peace with your life now?
I'd like to know what you think. I hope you'll stop over at LifeWithoutPink, and let us know if you are among the 3 out of 4, that did yearn for a son or a daughter. And if you did, how did you resolve that wish? Or haven't you?
Thank you! If you don't know Tina yet, you'll enjoy meeting her. She has a blog that always has something happening. I call her "the party house." Because that's what it is...contests, guest posts, features, projects, you'll never feel lonely knowing Tina. If you're new to blogging, LifeWithoutPink offers you so many ways to get involved and quickly meet others. She has the nicest readers, too.
September has always been a month to be endured for me.
My birthday has always been a difficult event for me.
Autumn, with it's leaves falling from the trees and to the ground, does the same to me, strips me bare and to the core.
With all 3 occurring, always, at once?
It gets harder and harder to put my shoulder down and just plow through.
September means the end of days filled with sun, hours, and my children about me and within my reach.
My birthday means another year older, with less dreams realized, and the ticking of the clock marching on.
Autumn, with its trees left skeletal, has always reminded me that another year has also lost it's life, and is coming to an end.
As I said, not.a.good.time for me.
And, I'm faced with the ordinariness.
I am ordinary.
I had the dreams of any person for myself.
To write to the point where people reading my words would be able to feel my ache; to be able to dance a barefoot dance so exquisite that to those watching, the sound of the music would fall away; to be able to sing in the clearest voice that those listening would be left unable to move and only to sit, and listen, and not a thing more.
But my life has worked itself to be one of ordinariness. Where I have laid my dreams down.
I am an ordinary woman who stays home with her children.
There is no book that has my name on its cover, there is no ballet where I danced to the point of utter silence, there is no song that anyone heard me sing, that left them breathless.
But, then, I look at my children, and they are the song I didn't sing, the dance that never was, and the book that remains unwritten.
When I look in their eyes, I enter a plane of existence other than the 3 dimensional one we live in. There is no skin nor bone that separates us.
When I catch their faces, turned at such an angle, that for a split second where time stops, I see the ghost of my face in the curve of their cheek.
No matter how poetically written, or eloquently delivered, the account of my life is that of an ordinary woman.
Gotcha! * [my apologies if I had you goin' and played on your emotions and made you deeply concerned enough to leave something awesome on here for me......I can be obnoxious like that...I still do not like autumn, my birthday, or September--that doesn't change]
Have there been times in your life, where you have felt lonely, as I have?
I hope you stop over at MomRenewal, and let us know what you did, and if you did, anything about that phase of your life.
I'd love to hear about it.
And, if you're new to MomRenewal, I know you'll find yourself signing up as a subscriber. Stacey has worked hard over there, to provide us with articles to renew, inspire, and rejuvenate. It's a lovely site that I visit every day, for the relatable writing I find there.