If you're the mother of small children, you'll understand me when I say, I get really tired of hearing the sound my own voice! My days typically go a little something like this, "No Dakotah! Do not write
on yourself with markers! I love u too Dani. Dakotah, put the wet cat
back outside. I love u too Dani. Dakotah, quit pretending like you're smoking the ink pen. I love u too Dani. Hey Daakkoottaahh, where are you? Oh there u are. Painting the bathroom with green nail polish...I
LOVE U TOO DANI!"
Sounds familiar to anyone? Or are my kids the only ones that seem to make it their life's mission to run me as ragged as possible and try their best to make me cry before the sun goes down? The above scene really happened, about two years ago. That was probably one of those days that by the time I got supper on the table and everybody had their second or third plate, I was laying in the floor, in the fetal position, slobbering all over myself and Curtis was wondering what happened to his fun loving wife that he used to come home to every day after work.
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Poor Mommy needs a time out!
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Well, since then I've grown some pretty thick skin. And learned to block things out. I'm pretty sure it's a gift. My mom and dad both say, "I don't know how you can just sit there and ignore Dakotah crying like she's not even there!" or "Why don't you answer him?! That drives me crazy!" It was either learn to block out a little bit of the insanity, or kill somebody. I knew the second wasn't an option. For one, orange is NOT my color. And, I know I'm not tough enough for the prison life. So, I went with the "tune em' out" method. It works really good for me!
One day a couple of summers ago, I was cooking dinner and the kids were all playing outside. Running in and out, in and out. I was just doing my thing. (ignoring the slamming door) Devin, 10 at the time and Kaya, my stepdaughter, then 12 said they were going for a walk. I told them that was fine, just don't go too far and don't stay gone long. They are our explorers.
If I haven't mentioned it in my past blogs. Devin's my child that I have to be very specific with. I'm honestly not sure how I've kept him alive this long or at the least from severe harm. My daily dialogue: "Devin, don't run with scissors...Devin, you can't use that sharp knife...Devin, don't jump off of the roof...Devin, don't drink anti-freeze." Okay, maybe that last one was an exaggeration.
Anyway, about 100 yards from our driveway, in the middle of the highway, there's a dead opossum. It's been there for a few days and every time we drive by it, Devin wants me to slow down so he can inspect it. I'm sure you can all see where this is going.
On their walk, Kaya and Devin discovered that not only was the poor opossum murdered, but she also had three babies that were dead too. They came back in from their adventure and Devin was excited to tell me about the babies. Kaya was sad. She thinks it's a tragedy anytime an animal dies. ANY animal! She has such a big heart.
Devin proceeded to say, "Ya know, there's blood everywhere around that opossum." I said, "Yeah. I'm sure there is." He said, "And when you pour peroxide on it, it bubbles like crazy!" I said "Why were you guys in the middle of the highway in the first place?" He said, "that's where we were taking our walk." Then I ask him, "And why in the world did you have peroxide with you?" He looked at me with a look on his face like, you are sooooo stupid. And said, "We didn't. We came back and got it!" DUH!!!
Ya know, 3 hots and a cot sounds better all the time. They'll let me have my books, right?!
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