Daughter #2 graduated from college this past Saturday (and the most boring speaker talked forever about quantum blah-blah for nearly 40 minutes and she was a journalist/television personality on Fox News who should have had a much better speech. I formally offer to edit/write her next speech if she should like to contact me. I am sure I can do a much better job than what she read…and read…and read…)
I only cried once at my daughter’s graduation. I wanted to cry at this woman’s speech but then some lively little Bishop from New Mexico spoke and was delightful and I snapped out of it. Praise the Lord!
The tears all started when daughter #2 opened a set of Pyrex bowls. Yes, she burst into tears herself at the thought of being at the stage in her life that she would get a set of Pyrex bowls. That set off my watershed event and it took 2 pieces of cake to bring me back to sobriety. Maybe it was the 4 glasses of Merlot I had with lunch talking, but I started laughing that it took Pyrex to bring us both to tears. Hey Corning – are you happy?
The good news is that she will be home for about 3 months before she starts her new job and I can have her all to myself. The bad news is that this bonding time will make it even worse when she finally leaves home for what will be her real step out into the world of her own. After that, it will never be the same at home. (Who am I kidding? The first day a college is when that really begins?) I will be sniffing then. I have always been excellent at avoidance so those thoughts of summer’s end and job beginning have been banished, and I will be living in the moment until some time in September (the exact date of which I am not sure and I don’t want to know right now. That’s how that avoidance thing works for you newbies.)
So I get a thank you card from her in the mail today. She mailed it to us from our own house. (Used my stamps.) And it is so sweet I am a teary-eyed at her touching prose, and then I read the end. And I quote, “I love you very much and you are great parents. I guess this means a very nice 4 star nursing home for both of you.”
Thanks, but it’s not quite my time yet.
To everything there is a season,
a time for every purpose under the sun.
A time to be born and a time to die;
a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
a time to kill and a time to heal …
a time to weep and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn and a time to dance …
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to lose and a time to seek;
a time to rend and a time to sew;
a time to keep silent and a time to speak;
a time to love and a time to hate;
a time for war and a time for peace.
Picked up my son from his job at the ice cream stand last night. So glad that he was able to inform us about the woes of being busy at work. Yes, he as actually tired! There were lots of people wanting to be served. One of his co-workers was snippy and bossy when things got busy and out of control. The people were mad at things taking a long time. His feet hurt and he was hungry and thirsty himself.
Can you imagine? I never!
Thank God I have my son to prepare me for what’s outside there in the world of work. To think that I have been working since I was 16 and NEVER knew that these mental and physical perils at the workplace existed. I am definitely going to be much more thankful for any downtime that I might have (I think some people some call it vacation), and I will take good care of my earnings because I worked hard for them. Yes, a whole new world opened up for someone last night.
It was almost as much hard work to hold back the words, “Why do you think the call it work?” or “What do you think your father and I do every day – lunch and shopping?”
But I did not. I listened kindly – and then took it out on my blog. I wonder if someday someone will discover that venting on a blog will save on trips to the counselor/psychologist/bar?
Maybe someday I will stop being sarcastic - when I win the lottery.
“If A equals success, then the formula is A equals X plus Y and Z, with X being work, Y play, and Z keeping your mouth shut.” ~ Albert Einstein quotes
I maintain that worrying is part of my maternal job and I take it seriously.
My daughter has had a stomach ache for about three weeks now. I have offered my advice, my Tums and Pepto, but nothing seems to work. When I mention that perhaps it’s time to see a doctor, she acts like I am punishing her and sugarcoats how she really feels. (Or could it be because I ask her after every 10 minutes around the clock? I suppose that’s a possibility.)
Now that summer is about over, my son got a “summer” job working at an ice cream stand. Now all he has to do is pass his Math B exam on August 13 that he failed by 2 points in June and
his summer goals my summer goals will have been accomplished.
My middle daughter, who is still in college, got a job offer for after graduation so she will have gainful employment after this year. I am thankful for one less thing to worry about. The company took her on a trip to Disney World (no one did that for me when they wanted me to work for them) so now I can worry about her stomach ache long distance.
The other daughter is working about 60 hours a week so I can worry about how she can’t take proper care of herself when she is so exhausted.
I am fulfilled!
“If I had my life to live over, I would perhaps have more actual troubles but I’d have fewer imaginary ones.” Â ~ Don Herold
I don’t know what the problem is. The kid just can’t find a job and he has been trying so hard. We have been everywhere and he is clean, polite and persistent.
He was a bit frustrated, but now is very frustrated as his two friends got summer jobs and didn’t even try. Both friends had a mom who knew someone, so they didn’t even fill out one job application or go inside one store and ask if they were hiring. I guess I have failed as a mom because I don’t know any such people – just another item to add to my listÂ of shortcomings. With thatÂ said, I feelÂ pretty good.
Why? Because of this note I got when I came home yesterday to find a very clean kitchen and newly vacuumed rugs.
Note he spelled “bearer” wrong – barer. I assureÂ youÂ thatÂ I did not bare myselfÂ toÂ anyoneÂ in any inappropriate way. (Perhaps we can work on spelling this summer?)
While he can’t find work, this might work out for me.
â€œPsychiatry enables us to correct our faults by confessing our parents’ shortcomings.â€ ~ Dr. Lawrence J. Peter