On Strike!

I'm going on strike.  Life feels like a blur and somewhere along what's supposed to be an adventuresome journey, I've gotten lost in the underbrush of daily life.

More than half way through my mothering career and I've come up dead empty.  Like complete and total burnout on mom-ing.  I just cannot correct, cajole, fix, feed, discipline or remind one more time. 

I feel like all my fun-ness has fluttered away in the wind of trying hard and doing too much.  I'm done.  D-O-N-E.  Maybe all mom's get here, but no one really talks about it.  The  total inability to do.one.more.thing.for.them.

My plan for the next 5 days is not to remind them about their chores.  Even if animals die. 
I will not say one word about summer reading.
I won't be cooking anything except for myself. 
I won't be cleaning up their messes the kitchen, either. 
I will step over shoes by the front door and wet towels on the floor in the bathroom and not comment. 
I won't be going grocery shopping, but will gladly give them the funds let them do it themselves. 
I will do all my own gardening, but leave the yard work (without reminding) to them. 
I bet you can guess the last one: not a single load of laundry.  

I'm just at the point where all I can see is the negative about us.  The carping, bickering and ingratitude are a flood levels.  I feel like going on strike has potential as a reset button.  Surely it can't hurt...

Have you ever come close to going on strike?

Happy Day to All

5-1-01 ~ 5-1-13

This baby boy who came into the world at 9 pounds even

got a phone for his 12th birthday today.

How is this possible?

Another day, another story,

Em

Crystal Clear

In the crystal clear late afternoon light of Spring they play tag.  Both of them so enthralled in their game they do not notice how worn this playground is.  One wears plaid and tennis shoes, the other a bright sunshiney-yellow baseball uniform and cleats. It's impossible to tell who is "it";  all I notice is the way they run, their towheads catching the light as they circle around and around.  There are squeals and cheektocheek grins as they climb up the slide.  

I look up from my book, from the front seat of the car and notice all this - in just half a second.  I realize I've been missing it, busy checking my phone and reading, and tears flood and start to spill.  How many of these crystal clear moments do I have left?  That one in the baseball uniform is my youngest.  

I take the time now to notice their whole-face smiles the purely innocent delight in such a simple game.  I told them ten minutes. Why?  Why does fun have to have a time limit?? So I could get home and fold laundry? Or do garden prep work?

One of them dangles from the monkey bars while the other pumps his growing way too fast legs on a swing.  From the look on his face he's preparing to take off into orbit.

For just a second I wonder what it would feel like to take playing so seriously.  What if I got out of the car, left my phone and book and keys and just entered in?  This crystal clear light is waning, on this day and these moments. 

I can't help myself.  Almost in a trance I do it.  I set all my mental lists aside, I leave the phone and my books in the car.  I don't want to miss this light. 

Focus Shift

We are still here. 

We still have crazy, wonderful busy lives 

filled with 4 sons each.

But we've had a focus shift over the past couple of years.

We hope to get it back into balance soon 

and resume sharing all the aspects that make 

this juggling worthwhile.

Meanwhile, tune into what else we've been up to:

Lib's Mission

Em's Nonprofit