Sometimes it’s hard to keep your head on straight

Whit has been on fire lately.  On Sunday he triggered a thoughtful conversation, one that incidentally mirrored in one of those can’t-be-a-coincidence ways the quote I shared on Thanksgiving, the words that best capture how I felt on that day – and in this season – of gratitude, emotion, celebration, and tradition.

“If the only prayer you ever say in your life is thank you, that will be enough” – Meister Eckhart

I’m also thankful for Whit’s sense of humor, though.  Matt is away this week, so I’m sleeping as late as I possibly can (he believes the day should start at 6 something, I believe the day should start at 7 something, which is actually not as minor a distinction as it might appear).  Yesterday morning I woke up at 7:24, both kids were still sleeping.  They were at school dressed, fed, and hair brushed, at 7:55.  Not bad.

This morning was more standard.  I woke up when I heard Whit come out of his room upstairs.  Minutes later, when I was helping him get dressed, he said, apropos of absolutely nothing: “Sometimes it is hard to keep your head on straight.”  I did a double take.  Why, yes, Whit, it is!

As soon as I stopped laughing, Whit and I headed downstairs to wake Grace up.  She was cranky and teenager-ish getting out of bed, and turned really sour when I told she and Whit that I wouldn’t be picking them up after school today.  “Why?” she whined, and I could tell that she was trying to decide if she was going to get mad or cry.

“Because I have to work,” I replied, trying to brush her hair.

“Why?” she whined again, looking at me plaintively.  My patience on this score is thin.  I spend a LOT of time with my children, happily, and I do not relish the guilt trips Grace has learned to lay on me when I have to be away.

“Because I have to work.  To make money.  And because I like what I do,” I hurriedly repeated the justifications we’ve discussed in detail, ad nauseum.  For the record, Grace proudly tells everyone who asks that she wants to be “a mummy, a veterinarian, and a writer.”  So she’s headed right for this life of juggling.  Tense silence filled the room as I pulled Grace’s hair into pigtails and tried to coax her to get dressed faster.  Whit suddenly chimed in from his spot by the door, where he’d been listening.

“In work, the trophy is money, isn’t it?”

Taken aback (where does he get this stuff?) I swallowed and said, quickly, honestly, “Well, that’s not the trophy for everyone, Whit.” It’s certainly not for me, but I wasn’t going to get into it this morning with the two of them.

After breakfast of Chex and yogurt, we piled into the car.  Grace was still being surly, averting her eyes from mine and sighing dramatically every few minutes.

“Grace, what’s on your mind?” I asked as I turned down Taylor Swift singing Mine and glanced at Grace in the rearview mirror.  She glared back, her jaw set.

“Grace, what’s on your butt?” Whit teased.  Ah.  Yes, he’s still just a five year old boy, too.

11 thoughts on “Sometimes it’s hard to keep your head on straight”

  1. Tears pricked at my eyes and my heart races when I read, “My patience on this score is thin” with regard to work. It isn’t often said, I usually see it from the other side of the fence in the judgement of being a working mom.

    Somehow I thought I’d get better, but I haven’t. Today I’ll try again, try to keep the whispers of my guilt about my work at bay. They really aren’t helping anyone.

    Beautiful as always, Lindsey.

  2. If we could all just keep our heads on straight!

    Thanks for the pull on the heartstrings, for the laugh and for pointing out that there is one heck of a big difference between 6:23 and 7:23!

    And I will be noodling the money/trophy thing for a while…

  3. Oh Lindsey. Enjoy your day at work. I know those guilt-trip inducing sighs. I was waiting for one of your achingly deep and beautiful stories of moments of profound interaction with your kids. What a surprise to instead be falling out of my chair laughing instead at Whit’s to the point humor. We are blessed that you share these glimpses of your life with us.

  4. Oops – somehow I managed to reply to another comment instead of leaving one of my own… sorry about that Christa.

    Oh Lindsey. Enjoy your day at work. I know those guilt-trip inducing sighs. I was waiting for one of your achingly deep and beautiful stories of moments of profound interaction with your kids. What a surprise to instead be falling out of my chair laughing instead at Whit’s to the point humor. We are blessed that you share these glimpses of your life with us.

  6. I am laughing out loud. Whit is so darned funny…and his comedic timing is masterful.

    (I’m also laughing because, not surprisingly, Henry could’ve (and should’ve) said those same words to his sister this morning.)

    The terse moments. The ground-hog day conversations. Nodding. Nodding.

    xo

  7. Your kid is hilarious! Seriously. I think they are all that blend of profoundly intelligent and profoundly ridiculous, which is probably why we’re willing to put up with all the rest for so long :).

    Yours,
    Megan

  10. I can so relate to this today. I too have an older child that likes to throw guilt trips my way, he just happens to be the same child that speaks those amazing words of wisdom at other times. It’s a funny life, no?

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