Peace and Quiet......what is that?

I am writing this blog in a completely quiet house, yes those do exist. My kids are all at their other parent's house so I am completely alone. Well not completely, there are 4 dogs, 3 cats, 2 turtles, 2 ginuea pigs, and 2 mice. So I am still not alone, even when I am. My big Foxhound just got a bark collar so that we can actually enjoy a night of sleep, but nooooo....the other dogs and one cat did not want us to sleep. The lab came in the room expecting to fit on the bed. The two chihuahuas were both restless and couldn't decide where on my legs they wanted to settle. And Comet, the old Siamese cat, decided that even though the door is open she wanted to let us know it was time to go out in the hall by climbing on my head. So I am tired once again. I think I am also tired because I have an enormous pile of laundry to start, a seat cushion I have been delaying working on, storage issues to resolve in the freezing garage and I have to wash Chewie (the hairy chihuahua terrier that settles for laying on my chest even when stinky). So where should I start? My coffee is almost done and motivation has not been found in the bottom of the mug as I once thought. Maybe I will opt for more coffee and a new book on my kindle. I should enjoy the peace while it lasts.

All I Got was a shortness of Breathe (originally posted January 19, 2011)

      I have always had a competitive spirit. I do not like being 3rd and I hate being 2nd. 2nd is worse than 3rd because now I have a personal vendetta against the person who is first. Not placing at all always irritated me so much that I pushed myself to do better the next time. In high school I ran with the guys at cross country and track, initially that was part of my strategy to become a better runner. In time I became "one of the guys".   Competition makes me a better person if I keep myself in check. Pushing little children aside to be first in a class room race is not going to win me any points. Today at church there was a challenge posed to the kids and of course I wanted to win. The spoiled little child deep inside me was saying "me me me". The challenge was who ever can win the race against a 6 foot tall leader got to have 5 points for their team. I did win, but since the challenge was for the children no points were awarded to the fabulous me or my team. All that I got was a shortness of breath and pain that I will regret tomorrow. I am not a 16 year old cross country runner anymore that is for sure.
     Part of the same spirit that wants to win all the time also does not like to ask for help. I know you are supposed to humble yourself and be willing to be helped, but that is easier said than done. I want to be independent. I want to do it on my own. I can do a man's job, I am one of the guys after all. I was raised with all boys. I am also getting better at receiving help, but I still hate to admit that I am weak and that I do need help sometimes.
     I also don't take criticism well. This has to do with my desire to be first or the best. I know I am not really the best at anything. Please feel free to be my critic as I need the practice. I will sulk in my little corner and no one will get hurt. I am much better at it then I used to be. I guess I put my "big girl panties" on now.

Homework Nazi (originally posted last year 1/14/11)

Today I put on my uniform and became the homework nazi, kinda similar to the cleaning nazi but without the nerf gun and the big stick. I run around to the three different locations that my children have been plopped and check each little amount of progress that they scribbled onto their paper. When I am done with looking at one child's work I hurry across the room to see any progress that has been made. My oldest absolutely refused to do any homework other than practice his drum which I know gave him extreme pleasure that the pounding banging clamoring noise was actually his homework, he even had an assignment on a paper from the music teacher. The spelling book once again has miraculously disappeared and getting him to read a book is almost as hard as pulling teeth from a crocodile. My middle child did not have much homework so he volunteered to take out both trash cans and feed the dog. My sweet child avoided the homework nazi's wrath that was caused by his older siblings mislaid home work. My youngest simply shocked me, she laid down where she was plopped and did all three assignments. For a split second, before she started rambling on and on and on about a new binder, I thought that maybe I brought home a different child. So until tomorrow, the homework nazi has hung her uniform and sighs a giant sigh of relief.