On the first day of starting this blog I vowed to only tell true stories (see archives!) but today I vow to not even exaggerate...although that promise may only apply to today's blog (come on, give me something to work with here). So here goes.... Every.Single.Solitary day I rip my 7 year old out of her bed by her feet. I start the gentle awakening process at around 6:50 a.m. by opening her bedroom door, turning on her light, pulling her shades up and taking her covers off. I end the unsuccessful gentle awakening process at approximately 7:20 (school bus comes at 7:45) when I tear the covers off again grab her feet and pull her out of her bed. I then carry her stiff, lifeless body into the bathroom where I undress her and position her on the toilet seat. I leave her there to continue getting myself ready for work. I could return in ten minutes, or a week later (oops, I couldn't even keep my new promise for one blog) - either way she's still sitting there no matter how long I'm gone. I then position her at the sink to brush her teeth and hair. All the while I am ranting and raving posing one empty threat after another....pretending to hear the school bus coming, threatening to cancel every activity she has planned from now until New Year's, even resorting to "you'll go to bed tonight without your supper" (clearly this worked for parents of the 1950's)...all of which to no avail. On Saturdays, I drag her out of bed to go to her sister's dance class, on Sunday I drag her out of bed to go to CCD (WHAT KID doesn't jump out of bed for THAT!?!?). BUT THEN... came TODAY. Thursday. Veteran's Day. No school, no work, no dance, no religious education. A day to sleep-in and rejuvenate oneself from a busy week. Did I have to drag her out of bed today? Funny you should ask. NO, I didn't. She was up, on her own, at the crack of azz while the rest of us were sleeping in a completely quiet house. Seriously!?!? Does this happen at your house?
While I'm up - I might as well thank a veteran. My #1 veteran...my Dad...who at 19 years old, fought in a thankless war where most of the people he was fighting for didn't want him there and the people back home were protesting too. My dad, who 40 years later, still carries so much of that war around with him. Dad, I hope that someday you will find some peace, but I know you are a changed man because of your experiences. I also hope the day comes that you will let me write about it. xoxoxoxoxo