I love my children.
They've been my life, my work, my career.
If they hurt, I hurt.
If they were scheduled for major surgery and I could, I would willingly take their place.
If someone breaks one of their hearts, as has happened, my heart breaks too.
If something makes them happy, my day is made.
Sounds like there are no limits to my maternal devotion?
Wrong.
I think I've reached a limit.
The limit of my patience for having my house look like like a frat house.
Yeah, yeah,I hear you. We're of age now, legal to have a brew once in a while after a long day working in the killer heat.
But couldja put the bottles in the bin when you're done?
And cleanliness? I'm glad you take frequent showers.
But would it break your heart to pick the damp towels up off the bathroom floor when you're finished? Oh, and while you're in there, try to remember to flush.
I don't mind doing your laundry. But do you think you could, once in a while, not toss your stinking socks and wet, smelly work clothes in the laundry hamper to fester, but rather take a minute to hang them over the side, where some air can circulate around them 'til I get a chance to do the wash?
I guess I should be happy that you can cook for yourself when necessary. And yes, I know that you can, and will clean up your mess. But before next week, OK?
'Cause dude, I need access to the sink!
And what brain blip caused you to think yesterday was a good day to embark on a big new project, to wit, cutting down old pine trees out back? The day before He Who Pays The Bills is due home for a quick visit?
I know, I know, all's well that ends well.
But.
I needed my beauty sleep last night much more than I needed to lie awake, having panic attacks about the tree you cut that refused to fall, but got stuck, way up, among some of its neighbours, as darkness fell. About how we'd end up in the poorhouse after paying for the damage if, God forbid, it should fall and crash on the neighbour's pool enclosure, or, worse yet, on the unsuspecting neighbour himself....
Like I said, I love the boy. His heart is in the right place. I'm just too old to be in such close proximity to so much testosterone....He needs to move to a frat house.
Do boys ever outgrow the desire to impress their dad? To take his breath away with what an awesome job they did of taking care of the place in his absence? To, once in a while get a sincere, no holds barred "Attaboy" with no "buts" attached? I know that's what's behind it, but oh, I'm weary and stressed and still need to clean and go to the grocery store. Seven hours to go.....
Postscript: The offending tree was coaxed to earth this morning with the chain saw, vroom, vroom! piece by piece, without damage to life or limb or neighbour's
property. The only damage was to my life expectancy, which has been shortened by at least ten years.
19 comments:
This was really funny! :) After seeing the pictures of your quilts and such, it's hard to imagine your house looking like a frat house. LOL
My son is married and when he leaves my house looks like a frat house where the frat boys had been entertaining non stop for weeks, maybe months. He doesn't mean to, she doesn't mean to, they don't mean to. They have 2 kids and 1 on the way - Oh my, what's it gonna be like when there's another one? Blessings, marlene
My dearest Molly,
You need a vacation lady.
Pack up and leave the house for at least a week. Somewhere.
Anywhere.
Out of there.
Scarlett & Viaggiatore
Laughing and snorting all the way through. Please forgive me.
have heart Molly. A leopard can change his spots. My middleson was a million times worse than yours, he is now married and ....we have to remove our shoes when we enter his home. lol.
btw I once gave him a deadline to clean his room or else I would put it all in the garbage. The garbage collectors had a heavy load that week. It was a few months later when he realised what I had actually done.
Snickering and snorting. Cruel I know, but I have so been there.Forgive me.
Sorry Tanya. Just noticed your 'forgive me' as well. Guess we could have been at least a tad more sympathetic but great minds must think alike, and a chastisement will only make the giggles worse.
I was laughing at this this, but with a sense of foreboding in my heart. One day mine won't be cute little darlings and I will be out-testosteroned 3 to 1.
Ha! So glad the tree made it down safely, and your life expectency is lengthened again. Funny post, I love reading your writings :)
Just wait til he moves out, then visit and throw wet towels around before you leave. I plan to leave smelly socks behind the couch cusions in the houses of my children. I'm more than able to wait for my revenge...
My sons have fled the nest. They have both returned on occasion, for patching & repair. Resulting in more rents in my heart, because I could not, take the blows for them.
The dread of which you speak about projects going awry... well, it is Gom who strikes terror into my heart.
Oh, dear. Just oh, you poor, poor dear.
I'm glad the tree didn't kill anyone or destroy any buildings. It doesn't seem fair that it is all to impress his dad while you are the one living with the constant fallout, so to speak.
Would it be possible for you to have a word with your husband BEFORE he hands out "attaboys" so as not to encourage such behaviors?
Tell me he's just home for summer? I'd be settin' up rules, but I know they don't listen. I'd be with Scarlett on the vacation idea if I didn't fear for your house. :)
Eeek. Sorry about the "paint post". I realized after I read your comment that it was too heavy/TMI and gutted it.
Oh Molly. My boy is going away forever next weekend (well, not exactly forever, but he won't be living at home again for any length of time) and I'm so sad. (Mind you, he sounds slightly more housetrained than yours. But still not perfect.)
I hope you heard the snort across the ocean, by the way, when you commented that my garden is "technically" a Scottish one. !!!
I'm with Stomper, laughing, but with a sense of foreboding. I can't even train my husband to pick up his wet towel...
See, your whole problem would be solved if only your son had been gay. We don't chop our own wood. Well, except the Brawny guy. Don't tell me he's not gay. His moustache is just too manicured.
When my son left school and was still living at home:
I packed away -hid- the towels except for one each;
refused to wash, iron or put away his clothes;
fined him for any dirty dishes etc left around;
wrote out a living at home contract which he had to sign;
put anything he left lying around in a box in the garage
He soon got tired of always having a wet towel, no clean clothes, and having to brave the big spider webs in the dark to get to the garage for his stuff! LOL
I can relate to this - my son can convert my house from perfectly acceptable to Health and Safety risk within 24hours. It takes at least a week to do the Disaster Recovery programme.
Thanks for your comment - nice to meet you!
Post a Comment