I don’t believe it’s the adage of “Because I said so” 100%, nor do I think that children should be handed the reigns of their childhood to run amok as they choose. I don’t know that there’s any one ideal that I subscribe to with parenting, and I have yet to meet someone who has raised the perfect child. As a matter of fact, there appear to be more parents that are still searching for clues to living as an excellent human-being, than there are children (me being one of those).
I don’t mind the every day cycle, the running, the gathering, the shopping and the structure; what I mind is the incessant evil and manipulating nature of “the other” parent that appears to act only out of spite and vindictiveness. Isn’t there somewhere he can go? Like…the tar pits? Or Iceland?
It was about a year ago that I had an inordinate amount of tension pent-up and decided to take it out on a dried out log that had been sitting by the fire pit in the back yard. With a splitting maul and an ax, I marched right over to it, read it it’s last rights and then commenced the pendulum swinging; hell-bent on finally splitting it to handy little pieces for the next get-together. As I'm sweating into my swing, I hear a *tink, tink, tink* from the side. And any wood-chopping person knows that you keep an eye and an ear out for what might be around you as you’re lunging blade into wood, so as it would be, the noise was slightly disconcerting. At the turn of a head, I see my bestest girly – she’s in her strapless sundress, hiking up one side with her left hand, barefooted and *tink, tink, tinking* at the other log nearby…with a bitty, little ax. The wood slivers flew into the breeze as she held her dress up and out of her way – you have to plan your trajectory, you know. I made a comment to her that day being as frustrated as I was … “We’re all about futile efforts here!” We laugh about it still. The picture though – of taking measures to just keep chipping away at the problem, the goal or whatever other name you give it…I suppose that does have an effect; futile as it may seem.
Like Peg told me over a year ago – “Be the drip, Trish!” She used it as a metaphor for how the tiniest amount of water can create a cavernous ridge in solid stone just by dripping, continuously and without diverting from the drip…drip…drip. It’s back to the making of life, as compared to the drudging of life. I'm tired of drudging. Time to kick things up a bit (or at least get my *Tink* on!).
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