Bedtime Ballet
Some things just drive me crazy. Here's a lesson to make living with me easier. When I put something away and you have no earthly business getting it back out, then just leave it be!
Brynn outgrew her first pair of ballet shoes. They are so cute and tiny, that I want to put them in her Brynn box and save them. Her Brynn box (treasures I'm saving from her childhood) is in my office. I have carried the ballet shoes down to my office 20 times. I put them up on the shelf with her other things, waiting to go in the box. Every week I take them down and every week she finds them, brings them back up and tries to cram her feet into them.
So Tuesday, trying to get out the door to ballet, I'm huffing around looking for the current shoes, pulling the little shoes off her feet, and muttering to myself.
"Every week. I carry them down, she carries them up. They are too small. Go find the new ones. How hard is that? Why do I put anything away? Everyone just gets it out again. Just get it out. Mom will put it away. Mom doesn't mind. Mom loves to repeat the same inane task 800 times."
You see where I'm going with this don't you? You've had a similar rant. Don't try to tell me you haven't. Maybe it wasn't about ballet shoes. Maybe it was when you ran over the 4th and final soccer ball with the van because no one will put it back in the toy bin.
Maybe it is when the children took their shoes off in the car and you were only backing down the drive way to the mailbox.
Maybe its when you were halfway to karate and had to drive back to the house for forgotten nunchucks and, as long as we were here, a bathroom break.
Maybe its because even though you tell them to, no one takes their coat when it doesn't "seem" cold.
Maybe its because not one single hair clip that has left this house in 8 years has returned.
Anyway, at some point, you've lost it. Just a little.
But when you lost it did your husband take you by the shoulders? Did he look deep into your eyes? Did he say "I'm a little embarrassed to tell you this, but at night, I've been doing a little ballet dancing and I needed good shoes, so my bad!?"
Love that crazy ballet boy.
Brynn outgrew her first pair of ballet shoes. They are so cute and tiny, that I want to put them in her Brynn box and save them. Her Brynn box (treasures I'm saving from her childhood) is in my office. I have carried the ballet shoes down to my office 20 times. I put them up on the shelf with her other things, waiting to go in the box. Every week I take them down and every week she finds them, brings them back up and tries to cram her feet into them.
So Tuesday, trying to get out the door to ballet, I'm huffing around looking for the current shoes, pulling the little shoes off her feet, and muttering to myself.
"Every week. I carry them down, she carries them up. They are too small. Go find the new ones. How hard is that? Why do I put anything away? Everyone just gets it out again. Just get it out. Mom will put it away. Mom doesn't mind. Mom loves to repeat the same inane task 800 times."
You see where I'm going with this don't you? You've had a similar rant. Don't try to tell me you haven't. Maybe it wasn't about ballet shoes. Maybe it was when you ran over the 4th and final soccer ball with the van because no one will put it back in the toy bin.
Maybe it is when the children took their shoes off in the car and you were only backing down the drive way to the mailbox.
Maybe its when you were halfway to karate and had to drive back to the house for forgotten nunchucks and, as long as we were here, a bathroom break.
Maybe its because even though you tell them to, no one takes their coat when it doesn't "seem" cold.
Maybe its because not one single hair clip that has left this house in 8 years has returned.
Anyway, at some point, you've lost it. Just a little.
But when you lost it did your husband take you by the shoulders? Did he look deep into your eyes? Did he say "I'm a little embarrassed to tell you this, but at night, I've been doing a little ballet dancing and I needed good shoes, so my bad!?"
Love that crazy ballet boy.
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