The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.
-Benjamin Franklin
I forgot my username, so I looked it up and found out that I had 2 more blogs out there on the ole www. Ben's quote is ringing true in my ears. Well, I've found them and I'm linking all of my blogs together. They've found a home :) This blog will hold my short stories.
08/04/04
As I create this, Kenneth (5) and Kaleb (2) are in the backyard doing what they do best. Water play. It occupies them for well over an hour. Hypnotic in it's flow, they squat for several minutes, holding the hose, watching water pour over the cement, fence, swingset, or into the grass. They each have their own. This is a must, or the arguments would slowly drive me nuts. "Is it my turn yet?" with it's repetitive insistance can truly grate on one's nerves. Kathryn? Doing what brings her happiness! She's in the livingroom, singing as she draws. As she finishes a project, she finds a door to tape it on. Well, time to start preparing for the trip to Canada.
Pam
02/09/04
BAM!Bring on the pain! Pain is so….bizarre. Personally, I’d rather be without it. Begrudgingly, I must admit that my largest epiphanies occur during these “throughs”. I call them Throughs now (taken from a lesson by Beth Moore, and then adapted to my life experience). Because, even though you’d rather go over, under or around in an effort to just skip the whole process, sometimes we have no choice but to pass through. And, to my experience, Throughs are rarely short adventures. They are more of a process, expanding more time than I’m willing to relinquish. But they are Throughs. You can’t stop them once they begin. One must put one foot in front of the other until they have reached the other side.At the end of December 2003, I slipped in the process of teaching my daughter how NOT to mop. On the same floor that, at 2, she conspired against me by sprinkling milk from her sippy cup in strategic areas. Tile is so slick when wet. I went down in my usual graceful (NOT) method, catching my fall with my face, splitting my brow on the corner of the doorframe as I flew into her room. Requiring only 6 stitches and a distinguished scar, I count it a small incident now. Now, at 6, Kathryn is at the age that she will begin to take on larger responsibilities in the home. And I’m proud to help her in her journey. As with all projects, they usually turn into family affairs, for Kaleb (2) can’t stand to be far from Mom, and if Kathryn is around, Kenneth wants to ensure that he isn’t missing anything. So, the four of us are gathered in the front foyer. I’m in Mommy Teaching Mode (you know, the tone that most teachers use when teaching a concept), explaining how to sweep, then section off the tiles in your head so that you can be sure not to miss any of them. “Kathryn, look at Momma, now, you take 2 tiles like so….and mop all the way across. See? Ok, now you’re going to do the next section.” I take a side step to show her the area, and plant my foot flat on the wet part that I just mopped!!!!! Oh brother…I go down. I’m going to have Michael install a camera in the hallway. Because I have no idea how I fell, what I fell on and which area hit first! My left knee dislocated (for the 5th time, at least) my left hip hit the tile at the force of …well, too much weight at too much velocity for a bone to tolerate. For days, I found bruises! My head was sore in the back, the right elbow had a bruise on it. Aches and pains everywhere! With all the children around me, it’s a miracle within it’s self that none were sacrificed in the fall. Being the robust woman that I am, I surely would have maimed, if not killed one of them.It’s really a bit comical, in an ironic, dry humor, sad type of way. I hate to draw attention to myself. Therefore, I’ve found through past experience in falls, usually involving dislocated knees, to keep things pretty low key. Well as low key as you can make a woman sprawled out on the floor writhing in agony. I’ve gained my Retired Disabled Army husband’s admiration by dragging myself through fields so he would be able to pick me up at the curb, keeping charts on medication for 3 kids, a hallucinating husband (he drank coffee, dehydrating himself to a shriveled prune) while being delirious myself. I must’ve done a pretty good job, because everyone sorta just moved on to play, go watch Rugrats…whatever. When Kathryn saw me scooting down the hallway on my bottom, in search of a couch to pull myself up onto, she asked what I was doing. “Hey Mom, is that tears on your face? Why are you crying?” I’m thinking, you didn’t just see me break dancing on the tile floor less than 2 minutes ago? What did you think that scream was? The Zena Warrior Princess yell? Did you REALLY believe it when I said I was ok and just needed to lie on the floor for a minute?And that was the first week. Ummm, why does my right leg have tingles when I sit too long?
-Pam
