At some point in my life, I must have prayed to God to give me patience. And God, knowing that nothing worth while should ever comes easy, gave me Jensen.
At 5 years of age, that boy is a bundle of energy and constant motion, while SPEAKING IN ALL CAPS. ALL THE TIME. NO MATTER WHERE WE ARE. OR WHAT WE’RE DOING.
And because God, being the author of humor after all, saw fit to bless me with Jensen WHEN I WAS 44 FREAKING YEARS OLD.
Do the math. And you have my current age. And you also know what birthday I will be celebrating this year. Only when I say celebrating, I am using that term loosely.
Add to all of this, a bum knee that precludes me from chasing after Jensen to stop him BEFORE he throws rocks at a sister in the back yard. Thusly reducing me to yelling as I assume that my voice travels faster than I do these days. In fact, I’m pretty sure that smell travels faster than I do lately. But, whatever.
My heartfelt apologies to the neighbors for all the yelling. I’m not crazy. Really. I just sound like I’m crazy. My husband once stage whispered to me, “Seriously, don’t yell in public. You sound like you’re insane.” Evidently since I’m easily excitable, my voice raises 4 or 5 octaves as I attempt to project. Producing a sound that only mad dogs should hear. Certainly not children poised on the edge of death and imminent destruction.
This morning, as I lay face down in the carpet after a morning of homeschooling and Jensen wrangling, Fiddledaddy wandered through and pointedly asked his young son, “Jensen, are you being a good boy?”
“SO FAR, DAD.”
If anyone had bothered to check with me, I would have had a different definition for the term “good.”
Then later in the day, I overheard Jensen attempt to make amends with an offended older sibling with, “SORRY CAILEY FOR MAKING YOU BLEED!”
Tonight Fiddledaddy decided that it was time to put Jensen’s loft bed up onto the furniture that it was designed to rest upon. Placing him squarely out of my reach, and a good 5 feet in the air. I was comfy just leaving his bed securely on the floor until he reached a mature age of LIVING ON HIS OWN.
As usual, my vote was vetoed. After everyone is fast asleep, I will likely go and scatter throw pillows about underneath. To break his fall. The preventative measures are always better than yelling. I’m about to excel in preventative measures.
And I will begin with taking down the ceiling fan from the boy’s room. I have a sickening feeling that I’m about to enter an entirely new blogging era.
Subject jumping, but I wanted to thank you all who stopped by and commented on yesterdays post about my mom. I received such an outreach of love and support in comments, and also personal messages. Some of you guys poured out your heart, and it meant so much to me. Not only do I know that I’m not alone in my struggles, but that I am surrounded by prayer and encouragement. I could not feel more blessed. THANK YOU.
It is a rare day when I step out into ALL THE SERIOUSNESS, but it’s such a comfort to know that I can when I need to. I think I’m all cried out. Which is good, since I’ve got to keep a clear eye on the goings on around here. 🙂