That was today. Trauma.
It was our first official day back to school and before ten this morning I was made aware of the following:
- No one in this family knows how to say anything right. Because of this, no one in this family can truly understand any other person’s feelings, thoughts, hopes, dreams, tragic circumstances, etcetera.
- Everyone in this family feels that he or she is a complete failure and will never be able to learn anything and will be stupid forever and ever and ever. Also, it’s more than likely my fault because I did not teach them how to say anything right.
- I am not a “real” mom.
- I am not a very good teacher. The actual quote was, “You really don’t know that much about teaching, do you?”
- I am mean.
- I am not able to read people’s minds, a talent that makes me not a “good” teacher.
- I cannot understand “what it’s like” to hate math.
- Cheetos should not be kept in any location where a 2 year old, one year old, and 8 month old can reach them.
- Sour cream, when dropped on the floor from the counter without a lid, displays a trajectory that NASA should research.
- Sour cream feels somewhat gelatinous when it covers a person from head to toe.
- My fifteen year old has proven that it, indeed, can take 12 1/2 hours to finish one problem in a math lesson.
- Scripture study can actually be done completely devoid of anything resembling the spiritual or inspiring.
- Boys and men have hormones, too.
- Children also have hormones.
- When all the hormones get into one room to do school after a holiday, it can be explosive.
I just don’t understand how we could have gone from this at Christmas time:
To this sassy, unruly, perhaps-they-belong-in-juvie-with-these-attitudes children:
By three o’clock, things were better, although while we were putting together an IKEA nightstand for my bedroom (which has been sadly lacking in nightstands for several months), my little ones decided to take the power drill in the other room and unscrew the electrical outlets while simultaneously trying to put together another piece of furniture to help me.
I also learned that the Baked Pasta with Chicken Sausage at Mel’s Kitchen Cafe is a keeper.
I have never been so happy to be done with a day in a long time, let me tell you.
It was truly a Jonah day, but here is my bright spot, written by the very daughter who took an oath upon her life that she would never talk to me ever again because I do not have the imagination to ever understand her, nor do I take anything she says into consideration.
Her essay on trees:
Trees are beautiful plants. They are very talkative and good-natured….And they only show their true color in Autumn.
Lots of trees don’t mind if you climb them at all. And they are happy to tell you a lot of their ancient secrets, if you are willing to listen, and if you are their type. Which you most likely are. Also, trees have a lot of living inside them. And one way you can understand trees is to put your hand on their trunk. Well, thank you very much.
Deep, slow breaths and we’ll start again tomorrow.
Thank heaven’s it fresh with no mistakes in it!