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Tag: Busy

  • Dear Friend, I’m Sorry For Being So Bloody Rubbish

    Dear Friend,

    I am sorry for being so bloody rubbish.

    But you see, life moves really – REALLY – fast.

    From the minute I open my eyes there are 2 small people, several big people and even some animals who are relying on me for many different reasons. Some of them involve eating and basic survival.

    I am spinning plates and dropping plenty. You, my dear friend are one of those plates.

    But I love you very much.

    I wish that every text message I wrote to you in my head made it into the virtual space and into your phone to let you know you’re in my heart and on my mind.

    I wish I could carry through with all the plans we make, knowing we never will. I go there in my mind – it’s loads of fun.

    When I drop, frazzled, into bed at night, I remember I haven’t rung you, again.

    Then I remember I haven’t locked the back door or brought the cat in and just like that, it’s happened again and I have forgotten, again.

    I am very hopeful that one day life will be easier and we will be blessed with plenty of time for laughing, drinking and sharing.

    Stick with me,

    I promise I will be worth it – when we are old and grey and you need someone to laugh with in the nursing home.

    I’m there.

    Yours Loyally,

    Your bloody rubbish friend

    xxx

    Source – Donna Ashworth

     

  • Why I Will Not Judge Your Parenting

    WHY I WILL NOT JUDGE YOUR PARENTING ❤️

    I’m too damn busy.

    I’m too busy making mistakes and praying my kids turn out alright anyway.

    I’m too busy looking at my musty smelling laundry pile and wondering if I should fold it or light it all on fire.

    I’m too busy teaching my kids good work ethics which means saying “stop playing and keep cleaning” over and over until everyone is crying.

    I’m too busy yelling that everyone needs to STOP YELLING and then wondering if I will ever be able to stop yelling. It’s not really looking good for any of us.

    I’m too busy letting my three-year-old use a pacifier and my six-year-old wear Cinderella underwear as a bathing suit.

    I’m too busy trying not to fight with my husband in front of the kids even though sometimes we make each other crazy (ESPECIALLY IN THE CAR). I say trying, because last week my three-year-old asked me why daddy and I sometimes argue like little kids.

    I’m too busy wondering if that wet spot is from water, juice, or urine.

    I’m too busy trying to assess if that Pterodactyl scream was a “we’re having fun” scream or a “blood has been shed” scream.

    I’m too busy making risky calls like should I let my son wear that shirt with spaghetti sauce on it to church, and do I tell my girls that it’s actually a “vagina” not a “bagina”, even though bagina is way more awesome?

    I’m too damn busy apologizing to my kids. I’m apologizing for misunderstanding them, for getting grumpy, for bumping their head on a doorway, for not believing them that their tummy hurt until they projectile vomited, and for throwing away that ginormous popsicle stick art project they brought home from school.

    I’m too busy apologizing FOR my kids, like, “sorry they ate all your snacks and asked you if there’s a baby in your belly”.

    I’m too busy being overwhelmed by the fact that it’s already dinner time AGAIN and the food is still at the grocery store.

    I’m too busy because this parenting gig is flying by at lightning speed and I’m hanging on for dear life, hoping that when it’s over they will look back and say “we were loved”.

    I’m not going to judge your parenting because IT’S HARD and YOU are the qualified one.

    I’m not qualified because I don’t worry about your kids like you do. I don’t lie awake at night wrestling with decisions about schools, and friends, and behaviors, and obstacles in their precious lives. I don’t love them, ache for them, feed them, or say sorry to them like you do. I don’t know them. I don’t know their dreams or what makes them tick.

    I’m eleven years in and I am now more certain than ever that there isn’t “one way” to do this well. I’m just trying to figure out how to parent my own kids and how many margaritas I can have without getting a hangover. Life is complicated.

    If we can’t be real and share the struggle, then it just doesn’t work for me.

    I’m a fan of all MOMS.

    I’m too damn busy for anything else.

    Full credit to wonderoak.com, Facebook/wonderoak/ and https://www.instagram.com/wonderoakblog/ on Instagram