Guard your heart above all else, for it determines the course of your life. Proverbs 4:23
At this point, my life is like a storehouse full of boxes. (Or, I guess this would be where Forest says, "My life is like a box of chocolates"). Each box contains some different scene from my life. Some of the boxes are worn because they contain favorite scenes that I love to look at over and over again. Some of the boxes have been duct taped shut and moved to the back of the room so they're out of daily view. Today, one of those boxes I'd pushed to the back accidentally got knocked over and spilled out as I was trying to rearrange the other boxes.
As I dropped Grant off at my parents' house tonight for scouts, I suddenly saw Grant as a teenager. Not my little Grant but a full fledged teen. He stood taller than my mom and almost taller than my dad. He was standing there with his new "cool dude" clothes on that were graduation gifts. He was talking about band try-outs today and the big field trip they're taking tomorrow on motor coaches. It was like an out of body experience. The gentle giant is man-sized and doing man-sized things! Ugh!
As the thought of his manhood assaulted every emotion in my body, I seemed to be running around like a nut job in my storehouse full of boxed memories and ran face first into a box that I've been packing and repacking and trying to keep the lid closed. The box spilled out all over the place and it's going to take me all night to repack it. Who will help Grant become the man he is to be? I'm in left field when it comes to this man stuff. From the stench, to the fur, to the matters of the heart, I'm incapable. I know that God will put people into our lives to help mold and shape him and, yes, my dad is near but it's just not the same. This is one of those dreams that I'm having to readjust. Man, this was NOT the box I needed to flip over tonight. This isn't like a, "Hey, Merv! Clean up on aisle 4," kind of spill. This is more like the CSI, police tape, crime scene kind of mess where they need hazmat suits to get it all under control. Ugh.
Meanwhile, as I ramble on here, the girls are both playing grocery store and watching Dora together as if they are the same age. There are some nights it bothers me to see Dasha engage in play so fully at a 2 year old's level. However, tonight isn't one of those nights. I'm just glad the girls are busy.
On a brighter note, the meeting with the new principal went well. The most notorious of phrases that will usher in this new era of administration will be, "No cracks in the front or back showing!" OK, I admit that I took me a minute to figure out that the front crack was cleavage. Geez! However, I like his style and I'm looking forward to change next year. While we're shaking up the Boggle cube, we might as well make sure every darn letter gets jiggled and flipped thoroughly! (And to be honest, I'm just hoping the letters don't land to spell out any special four letter words this time)!
As for my assignment as the "Boot Camp Instructor," we had fun. There are only four students (all boys) and we had all sorts of contests. I even took the Nerf gun (number chooser - not a "gun" if you're on school property) and let them collect points by shooting at the board with the suction cup darts. Talk about motivation! I bet I could convince them to pass the SAT if I'd had a real BB gun (or a live target - such as myself)!
It's only 6:00 but the girls have been fed and I'm ready to head to bed and knock out the rest of this cold. Grant has to be at school tomorrow morning before 6:30 so my beauty sleep is going to be compromised! It hasn't been a very monumental day and normally, I wouldn't have ever bothered to post on a day like this. However, in my quest to maintain a journal of my crazy ups and down over the next few days, weeks, and months, I offer up the spilled boxes, Nerf darts, and a big 'ole box of chocolates! However, right now, I'm identifying more with the phrase, "Run, Forest! Run," than, "Life is like a box of chocolates!" If there was chocolate in this house right now, I'd be locked in the closet chowing down on it!
As for my Anonymous friend, I know I can turn the comments off on the blog. However, seeing how truly sad this person is kind of makes me feel better about myself. :) Have you ever watched some else's kids act like complete fools and looked at your own and thought, "I'm a pretty darn good parent?" I guess the comments are a little like that. For now, Anonymous can comment all she wants. (I've looked into having the address traced and all sorts of other things but...). Maybe this sounds really twisted but I guess it's a little like knowing who the competition is!
As I dropped Grant off at my parents' house tonight for scouts, I suddenly saw Grant as a teenager. Not my little Grant but a full fledged teen. He stood taller than my mom and almost taller than my dad. He was standing there with his new "cool dude" clothes on that were graduation gifts. He was talking about band try-outs today and the big field trip they're taking tomorrow on motor coaches. It was like an out of body experience. The gentle giant is man-sized and doing man-sized things! Ugh!
As the thought of his manhood assaulted every emotion in my body, I seemed to be running around like a nut job in my storehouse full of boxed memories and ran face first into a box that I've been packing and repacking and trying to keep the lid closed. The box spilled out all over the place and it's going to take me all night to repack it. Who will help Grant become the man he is to be? I'm in left field when it comes to this man stuff. From the stench, to the fur, to the matters of the heart, I'm incapable. I know that God will put people into our lives to help mold and shape him and, yes, my dad is near but it's just not the same. This is one of those dreams that I'm having to readjust. Man, this was NOT the box I needed to flip over tonight. This isn't like a, "Hey, Merv! Clean up on aisle 4," kind of spill. This is more like the CSI, police tape, crime scene kind of mess where they need hazmat suits to get it all under control. Ugh.
Meanwhile, as I ramble on here, the girls are both playing grocery store and watching Dora together as if they are the same age. There are some nights it bothers me to see Dasha engage in play so fully at a 2 year old's level. However, tonight isn't one of those nights. I'm just glad the girls are busy.
On a brighter note, the meeting with the new principal went well. The most notorious of phrases that will usher in this new era of administration will be, "No cracks in the front or back showing!" OK, I admit that I took me a minute to figure out that the front crack was cleavage. Geez! However, I like his style and I'm looking forward to change next year. While we're shaking up the Boggle cube, we might as well make sure every darn letter gets jiggled and flipped thoroughly! (And to be honest, I'm just hoping the letters don't land to spell out any special four letter words this time)!
As for my assignment as the "Boot Camp Instructor," we had fun. There are only four students (all boys) and we had all sorts of contests. I even took the Nerf gun (number chooser - not a "gun" if you're on school property) and let them collect points by shooting at the board with the suction cup darts. Talk about motivation! I bet I could convince them to pass the SAT if I'd had a real BB gun (or a live target - such as myself)!
It's only 6:00 but the girls have been fed and I'm ready to head to bed and knock out the rest of this cold. Grant has to be at school tomorrow morning before 6:30 so my beauty sleep is going to be compromised! It hasn't been a very monumental day and normally, I wouldn't have ever bothered to post on a day like this. However, in my quest to maintain a journal of my crazy ups and down over the next few days, weeks, and months, I offer up the spilled boxes, Nerf darts, and a big 'ole box of chocolates! However, right now, I'm identifying more with the phrase, "Run, Forest! Run," than, "Life is like a box of chocolates!" If there was chocolate in this house right now, I'd be locked in the closet chowing down on it!
As for my Anonymous friend, I know I can turn the comments off on the blog. However, seeing how truly sad this person is kind of makes me feel better about myself. :) Have you ever watched some else's kids act like complete fools and looked at your own and thought, "I'm a pretty darn good parent?" I guess the comments are a little like that. For now, Anonymous can comment all she wants. (I've looked into having the address traced and all sorts of other things but...). Maybe this sounds really twisted but I guess it's a little like knowing who the competition is!
1 comment:
Good for you, you are real and brave! I just find it interesting how anonymous seems to hang on every word, phrase or nuance you post. Try not to worry about the "man stuff" Grant is in His hands and also in the home of a very loving momma! Take care.
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