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Trigger Isn’t Just a Horse

Some things really get to me some days. I haven’t yet figured out the pattern involved, but I definitely have a shorter fuse some days than others. Worse news than that, the children know when to steer clear of me. I overheard Junior tell Daisy that I must have one of my “splitting” headaches after I yelled at him for tracking mud in on his shoes. It wasn’t a lot of mud, but I had just been on my hands and knees for an hour scrubbing the floor.

I tried not to laugh to myself at the description since I apparently didn’t enunciate well in anger and it probably sounded silly. I realized that whenever I told the children that my head hurt, it was always “splitting.” I took two aspirin, closed the drapes in the living room and sat down in the semi-darkness to relieve the pain. Poor kids, they must have a skewed idea of adulthood if they watched us carefully. Mothers and dads go about their days like clockwork and have the chance to complain, loudly at times. but I usually put a stop to the kids’ complaints about food they don’t like, itchy clothing they don’t want to wear and having to go to bed at a certain time. No wonder they think life will be paradise when they are adults. Little do they know.

The reality of adulthood is that we would love to be kids again, especially in summer. Open the screen door, run outside, ride bikes and play. Come home for meals. Go to bed and repeat. So, I invented a new day. The children would be in charge for a day; this would require some light clean-up duties, easy meals to prepare and the chance for Steve and I to chill outside enjoying the day. The children would be permitted to stay up after us if they wanted and could tell us when to wash up and go to bed after dinner. I explained my plan over dinner and everyone seemed to think it was a great idea. I can’t wait.

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