"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11
My revelation for today was simply that I don't like change unless I'm in control of the change. Yeah, I admit that I learned that from the stupid therapy workbook as much as I'd like to ditch the book, it does offer some very solid insight. I knew I didn't like change. That wasn't a big surprise. However, I do enjoy some changes like moving the furniture around or going somewhere different. I was finally able to find the lens that makes it all make sense, though. It's all about ME being in control. There's a huge piece of me that huffed when all of the pieces fell into place and things became clear. I immediately thought, "Duh! I have to be in control right now or this whole joint would go down the crapper!" Maybe I didn't think those exact words but after you knock the vulgarities off of my thoughts, that's the point you'd find. Control. Yes. I admit that I'm a control freak. And I even admit that I've learned that I control things in a passive aggressive way. Isn't that better than being an outward bi.... oh, oops. You know what I mean. But now, maintaining control means even more than it ever has before. It's all up to me. I have to control the kids, the finances, the house, my job, my students, my own emotions, the kids' emotions... The list is endless. Now that I have ultimate control over everything, I don't want it. I want to hand the reins over to someone else and just pass out for a few weeks. What a luxury that would be. Now, I know why the beginning of this school year has simply run me into the ground. We have a new principal, a new AP, the big kids are at different schools, I'm having to live a different life, and having to have different expectations of everything! And, absolutely none of that is truly in my control. I can pretend to control some of it but I can't. So, what do I do? Yes, I know that I can hand all of my burdens over to God and I routinely do that but I can't just say, "Ok, God. Here's my junk. You take it and I'm going to go to the beach." I wish it worked that way. I have to walk the walk and I'm growing weary. Yes, I have other folks who offer to help but as I've said a zillion times, it's just not the same. And, the other thing I'm learning is that the more help I accept, the more power I seem to give away. That old saying about beggars not being choosers keeps playing through my head as I feel like I'm losing a bit more control as I solicit more help. Maybe it's just all in my mind.
Anyway, at least I made it to the end of the first section of the therapy workbook. I'll admit that I didn't have too many revelations as I worked through the material. Most of it was simply self-analysis which borders on hysterical these days. As a perfectionist (on top of being a control freak), I'm probably tougher on myself than anyone else and that's part of why this whole therapy business is hard for me. There's a sliver of me that believes that if I can't "fix" everything, then I'm not perfect. Yeah, I know. Newsflash, I'm not perfect but it bugs the heck out of me to think that I've screwed it all up so bad that I can't figure it all out myself. (I know that this is all my own self-criticism playing out and that no one else sees it like this but, hey, I'm being honest).
Today was a pretty uneventful day at the Randolph compound. There were no escapees, no assaults, and no protests. The biggest problem was that Annie has now learned to string all of her intelligence together to formulate plans. Case in point - Last night, mom gave the kids a bag of peppermints. I put them on the counter out of reach of Annie. (It was out of her reach last night). When Annie spotted them this morning, she started whining for a piece. I told her, "No," because I didn't want to clean up the sticky red peppermint drool. I went on cleaning up the bar area and had my back to her. I might not have seen her formulate her plan but I sure heard her. She went to the bathroom and opened the door (new skill that she's perfected), got her step stool, and drug it back to the kitchen. She placed the stool right in front of the stove. By this time, I'd turned around to see her grab one of the knobs (thankfully, to the back burner) and turn it on. She thought her new trick was great! She was like a little caveman who'd just figured out how to make fire! When I grabbed her and pulled her down, I scared the poo out of her and thought she'd learned her lesson. I put the stool up and busied her coloring. At some point, I got lax with supervision, though. I never heard her get the stool again. However, what I heard was the over door slamming open. I guess she'd tried to put her foot on it and use it as leverage to pull herself up onto the stove. Perfect. Now, the stool is hidden in "time out." Tomorrow, she'll probably try to drag the sofa to the counter, though. When the girl is determined, there's no stopping her! She'll jump baby gates, climb tables, jump from the piano to the sofa, or even stand on top of a ball in order to get what she wants. It's exhausting. Grant NEVER did these things! He always stayed right by my side.
So, tomorrow, I'll drop Annie off at Fatima's, warn Fatima that Annie might try to turn the stove on, and run! For now, I'm going to finish grading my last pile of papers and put laundry away. Then, I'll climb into my sheets that are only semi-clean thanks to Annie's decision to unscrew the lid of her cup (new skill) and drink without the lid on letting milk dribble onto the sheet. Yeah, I should change the sheets again but, hey, it's only me and it'll probably happen again tomorrow morning so why bother?
Good night, all!
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