While I'm Waiting. Yep. That about sums up my life. Over the last three weeks, I feel like I've been trapped in a waiting room. But, what the heck am I waiting on? I'm tired of waiting! I've tried to wait patiently but... Yeah, I'm whining.
Over the last three weeks, here's what's happened...
Fell off a ladder and fractured my wrist, lived through Dasha getting into a fight at school over a boy and "touching" someone (with her fist) and a fork, finally learned why Grant is sleeping with his Dad's wedding invitation under his pillow every night, watched Dasha understand that divorce is final, had a job offer that knocked me on my butt and caused several sleepless nights, had a run in with the IRS as they said they were going to basically take my house (due to no fault of my own), got a not so great doctor's report of my own, played detective (to no avail) to find out why Annie goes into hysterics when I try to leave her in Sunday school, got three unexpected bills, learned that I need new tires, had the air go out in the van, had the garage door fall (again), and learned that I am much stronger than I used to be.
No. I'm not keeping tabs or anything. Despite all of the crap that I've been wading (swimming) through, somehow, I'm still in one piece. Something that Louie Giglio said a couple of years ago has lodged itself in my heart. "God's plans for your life far exceed the circumstances of your day." So, somehow, I know all of this crap is just a blip on my life's radar. But now I'm trying to figure out what I'm really waiting for. Am I waiting for life to get easier? Am I waiting for a money tree to sprout in my backyard to ease my finances? Or (here's the big one), am I simply waiting for the guys in white jackets to come and haul my butt off to the funny farm? I don't know.
The things that I do know sort of surprise me, though. Raising teenagers is not easy. I'm not sure why this comes as a shock to me. My kids have always been somewhat angelic and have needed minimal correction. I'm finding that teenagers need correction with almost every single breath they take. It's really hard to walk the line between becoming a full out nag and offering them loving correction - especially Grant. I really don't understand this boy thing. As I've said before, I think pediatricians should give up the developmental stages titles such as "infant" and "toddler" and offer more realistic titles to parents. The first few months could be the "You Won't Get Any Sleep" months. Then, the "Don't Put Me Down" months. As you near those first few weeks of crawling maneuvers, that period would be the "Houdini" time period rounded out by the "Crap! He has teeth now!" stage. At some point, the titles would become linked to gender. Girls would have the "Where's my lovey?" stage while the boys would have the "Vroom vroom" stage. (I'm convinced that a male toddler who has never been exposed to car noises would figure out what sound to make based on the DNA of being a boy)! Anyway, there would be stages for sticks and rocks and even Legos. But then things get a little dicey for a single mom who didn't have any brothers growing up. Suddenly, everything is about male genitalia! Don't you dare laugh. You know I'm serious! (Yeah. I know most guys don't grow out of it but we won't go there right now)! Last week, Grant told me that he needed a whole new wardrobe of shorts. Seriously? I don't think so! He then gave me THE LOOK. I've learned that he gives me a certain look when he wants to say, "You're a dumb girl and you wouldn't understand!" When I see THE LOOK, I try to play it cool and tell him that I can handle whatever he's about to unload on me. (I rarely can, though)! During this particular conversation, Grant explained to me about "front poop." No. I'm not kidding. If he'd had this conversation with me today, I would have sworn that he was just waiting to scream, "April Fools!" Nope. So, I had to ask the dreaded, "What are you talking about?" question. If you only have girls, let me explain to you that front poop is when the crotch of your pants is too tight and causes certain things (the beans minus the frank) to squish up in the front. You can stop laughing now! Poor Grant was mortified at my reaction which must have been a true Kodak moment. These are those moments that should define the developmental stages, though. I would be much less shocked and alarmed if I simply knew that from age 13 - 14, boys were worried about the arrangement of their personal items within the confines of their bloomers!
The girls' developmental stages don't frighten me as much. I've decided that Annie's developmental timeline probably doesn't line up with that of other four year olds, though. She's sort of at "Take Over the World" stage already. I'm not sure where she will go from there. However, she is already learning about being a "lady" and will tell anyone that when she gets older, she will shave her hairs and wear a pad. (Thank you very much, Dasha, for sharing your most private moments with your little sister)! However, I at least understand those things!
While I'm waiting here in the isolation cell with these three inmates, I really am trying to figure out what the heck I'm waiting for. Some days, I pray that I'll open the door and there will be a huge neon sign hanging from heaven saying, "Here's your sign," and then, I'll know what to do. But, until that point, I guess I'm going to keep on fighting the fight and getting my fields ready for rain (Proverbs 24:27). My field definitely has some weeds in it and needs to be tended to. I need one of those shirts from Pike that says, "Play in the dirt!"
While I'm doing that, I am learning about myself and who I am, though, and sometimes, I'm completely shocked! Things that I just always thought were the "right" things to do based on hundreds of legalistic and implied criteria are beginning to fall away and my inner Dora the Explorer is looking for adventures. All of my Dora adventures will be the subject of another blog entry but, while I wait, I will continue to learn more about who He created ME to be (and not who others expect me to be). I will continue to learn more about raising teenagers (and, most likely, more about boy stuff that baffles me).
And, ultimately, I will not fade as I wait. (I would like a few new magazines in the waiting room, though)! :)
Good night, all!
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