Alison Hodgson

Expert on the etiquette of perilous times.

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The lad on the right, C. Riley H. is our designated dishwasher unloader…again.  When Paul lowered the wage to one chip some harsh words were exchanged and Christopher went on strike.  I had grown accustomed to the dishwasher being unloaded as soon as it was clean and was not really happy that Paul had mucked up employee relations.  He crossed the picket line to empty the dishwasher himself.   

One day, a couple weeks into this labor morass, I showed Christopher a very full and clean dishwasher.  He started to lift his palm to politely refuse when I said, “This is so full it’s a two chip job.”
His eyes lit up, “That’s great!  Two chips will definitely do!”  And then he set to work whistling happily.  After that I continued to employ him on a contract basis until he was back in the habit.  Once he tried to say it was a three chip job, but I just looked at him and he backed down.
This morning I opened a cupboard and a large pyrex baking pan came flying out.  I shrieked and jumped as it shattered at my feet.
“I guess I shouldn’t have placed it there.”  Christopher said quietly.
I looked down at the chunks and shards of glass that had landed in two hallways, the kitchen and a bathroom and shook my head.  
Guess not.

https://alisonhodgson.com/2009/01/334/

Good Mother

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There are times that I wonder if my colleagues have secret meetings without me and schedule our days so that at all times, at least one of them, is misbehaving.  I’ve never actually come across the little planners I picture, but I won’t be surprised if I ever do.

Now, as regular readers know, we have a heavy lifter, if you will, someone who carries the bulk of the naughty behavior, but even a work horse needs a break and then one of the little fillies is right there with a whole new twist.   
The other night at bedtime, Eden must have had “Push Mom to the limit” in pen in her planner.  I won’t give you the gory details.  Suffice it to say she was naughty, repeatedly.  I stayed calm and firm and took away some privileges, which ticked her off.  She was screaming and yelling blame at me, as I tucked her in, kissed her and left the room.  Sweet dreams.
I was done with her.  Had the gypsies happened by at that moment I would have gladly packed her suitcase and carried it out to the caravan, so it’s good that they didn’t.   I went and sat on my bed.  She continued to scream and yell.  I practiced breathing.  In the repeated exhalation and inhalation some of the anger was released and a little compassion came in it’s place.  It stinks to fall asleep crying, blaming someone else for your unhappy situation that, if you’re honest, you know is your own fault. 
I went back in and asked Eden if she wanted to pray.  She said she didn’t know what to say.  I said I thought she did and waited.  She prayed and asked God to forgive her and then she apologized to me and I forgave her and then I told her to roll over so I could scratch her back and while I did that I sang a soft song that I’ve been singing to her since before she was born. Any of the tightness remaining eased and I felt her relax.
The song ended, but I continued to stroke and scratch her back.  
“Does that feel better?”  I asked.
She turned her head and whispered, “It’s like we’re making a movie, but we didn’t get it right the first time, so we get to make it again.”
Yes.  I’m just learning this myself, but that’s exactly how it is.

TGIF

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Here we are trying to take a nice family picture. Christopher is on his mark. Lydia is offstage fluffing her hair or something. Eden seems to be feeling disenfranchised for one reason or another which may have motivated her next move which was to get up and tap the laptop.

I was concerned.
Having been encouraged to come back in the picture, she jumped at us and hit the wall.

Here she is working through the pain.


Paul is due home in 5 minutes, not that I am counting or anything, which is really a miracle as this has been one of those days that the OCD would flair up in anyone.