I've been putting off something I knew would be unpleasant. There had been trouble a little while ago with a decision my daughter made for herself. It was not a good decision - definitely not the worst thing I've had to deal with as a parent, but still, action was required. At that time, the consequences for another such err in judgement on her part were clearly defined. The consequences would be severe, something that would cause her great duress if ever they had to be called in. If consequences aren't strong enough for effective impact, no lesson is learned. Time passed, no further issues. *I have to say, to my daughters credit, righ been an easy raise, not prone to disasters and outbursts. Our relationship, mother to teenage daughter has been pretty much void of ugly arguments. Her judgement is usually sound for one so young - more sound than some twice her age.* Back to the story. I received a letter in the mail several days ago. My heart sank deeper with every line. I would now be forced to enforce the previously agreed upon consequences. Damn! Like I said, I'd put this off for several days, but today was the day. I showed her the letter. Really, there was nothing to argue about. She knew in her heart this day was coming. She knew she hadn't been keeping to form. And yes, she knew where the responsibility lie. Still it hurt - both of us. Disappointment sucks. Disappointment in your own self REALLY sucks. We talked, we did better than I'd anticipated actually. Some other things came up and we cried. Nothing to yell about. She needed to have a GOOD cry on her own and The Enforcer was the last person she wanted comfort from - I get it. We went our separate ways to do whatever we needed to do next. My daughter went into her bedroom, I went into mine to write.
Behind the scenes - for two days now, I've been trying to fix a couple of problems I made for myself wile setting up this site. This site is important to me. Me and anything technical? Like oil and water! My frustration level has been as deep as my focus has been these last three weeks in getting this online - INTENSE. I sat at my computer, brought up the pages, tried without success, to correct the issue. No go. Alright, I need to get out. I strapped Ginger, my Border Colle, to her leash, grabbed the 'necessary' bags, told my daughter we were leaving and then we left. I took my cell phone with me. I needed to talk to my homies as much as my daughter needed to talk to hers.
Called person #1 - no answer. Person #2 - no answer. Person #3 - no answer. Person #4 - answered and listened, but I'd already vented to him the previous day and now I felt bad taking him away from his family on the weekend. So I got off the phone without emotional resolve. Pout and emptiness. Alright, turn focus to Ginger. She needed to take care of serious 'business'. Into the bushes (Ivy) she, and I, went. My phone rang. My Sweetheart returning my call. This was not a good time for him I could tell. He hung in there for a few minutes trying to help. In the meantime, Ginger finished the 'necessities'. I had leash in left hand, phone between left ear and left shoulder with the 'necessities bag' in my right hand. I gathered up her abundant 'deposit' and was trying to tie the bag. Problem was, I was talking with my head mashed to the cell on my shoulder, tying the poop bag and trying to turn around in the bushes all at the same time. I was near the edge, the concrete gutter. My foot caught on a root, my ankle twisted, I was thrown off balance and I went down! Guess what - I knew I was going down. I tried to break my fall with my free hand - the hand that had the FULL bag of poop in it. If you have any imagination you know what happened next. My hand landed right in the middle of that dang bag of poo, sliding and mushing and gushing of course. I got sort of lucky because most of it went out the side. I was unlucky because it was the side next to my little finger. So there I was, bad couple of days, had to be the hardass Mom, brain fried, heart sad and disappointed, I fell, twisted my ankle, banged up my knee and landed in a bag of poo. I'm trying really hard not to draw too many parallels to this incident with my life. Not having much luck. And yes, I got poop on my finger. And yes, I behaved accordingly, used a lot of cuss words loudly, had a somewhat mild freak out, regrouped, left my dignity right there on the sidewalk (wouldn't be needing it the rest of the day) limped home and sterilized myself. Is there a moral to this story? Heck if I know!
Behind the scenes - for two days now, I've been trying to fix a couple of problems I made for myself wile setting up this site. This site is important to me. Me and anything technical? Like oil and water! My frustration level has been as deep as my focus has been these last three weeks in getting this online - INTENSE. I sat at my computer, brought up the pages, tried without success, to correct the issue. No go. Alright, I need to get out. I strapped Ginger, my Border Colle, to her leash, grabbed the 'necessary' bags, told my daughter we were leaving and then we left. I took my cell phone with me. I needed to talk to my homies as much as my daughter needed to talk to hers.
Called person #1 - no answer. Person #2 - no answer. Person #3 - no answer. Person #4 - answered and listened, but I'd already vented to him the previous day and now I felt bad taking him away from his family on the weekend. So I got off the phone without emotional resolve. Pout and emptiness. Alright, turn focus to Ginger. She needed to take care of serious 'business'. Into the bushes (Ivy) she, and I, went. My phone rang. My Sweetheart returning my call. This was not a good time for him I could tell. He hung in there for a few minutes trying to help. In the meantime, Ginger finished the 'necessities'. I had leash in left hand, phone between left ear and left shoulder with the 'necessities bag' in my right hand. I gathered up her abundant 'deposit' and was trying to tie the bag. Problem was, I was talking with my head mashed to the cell on my shoulder, tying the poop bag and trying to turn around in the bushes all at the same time. I was near the edge, the concrete gutter. My foot caught on a root, my ankle twisted, I was thrown off balance and I went down! Guess what - I knew I was going down. I tried to break my fall with my free hand - the hand that had the FULL bag of poop in it. If you have any imagination you know what happened next. My hand landed right in the middle of that dang bag of poo, sliding and mushing and gushing of course. I got sort of lucky because most of it went out the side. I was unlucky because it was the side next to my little finger. So there I was, bad couple of days, had to be the hardass Mom, brain fried, heart sad and disappointed, I fell, twisted my ankle, banged up my knee and landed in a bag of poo. I'm trying really hard not to draw too many parallels to this incident with my life. Not having much luck. And yes, I got poop on my finger. And yes, I behaved accordingly, used a lot of cuss words loudly, had a somewhat mild freak out, regrouped, left my dignity right there on the sidewalk (wouldn't be needing it the rest of the day) limped home and sterilized myself. Is there a moral to this story? Heck if I know!