Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Revolutionary Soup

Seth sauntered out of his room this morning asking, "Where's Daddy." I replied, that he was at work and in return received the sulkiest face around. Yes, we all feel a bit sulky when the man of the house is...well, not in the house.
Getting comfy in order to peel off the stickers stuck by Lucy
He's a keeper, for sure. Of late, I've come to the realization that perhaps I'm not the easiest person to live with--those of you breathing out a big "Ha!" in agreement, watch your mouth!! In my old age I'm not "watching" my own mouth as closely and Craig, too often, suffers the damage. This weighs upon me and stirs, what I call the "Revolutionary Soup". I call it this because, for instance, if you want to initiate change, a stir of this soup will do the trick. But, say the change is of the verbal variety--well that is only one ingredient and we all know, soup is often made up of many parts. So stir one and...well you've got the picture and I'm tired of my own metaphor. So here I go a' stirrin': I would like to
live more simply,
grow my own,
reuse,
be a calmer mother,
initiate creativity in my children,
create,
be more frugal,
and of course
watch
my
words.

Dinner with Dad at the Children's Hospital

I must shed some gratitudinal light on this internal revolution. To my battle buddy--the guy who says, (leaning back in his seat, al fresco at a restaurant last night) "This is why I was meant to be born in Paris." (As if this had been previously discussed, which it hadn't and therefore came across hilariously) and, the guy who, dead tired, still folds the mountain of laundry on his bed without a word--thanks. I wouldn't dare to start any revolution, internal or otherwise, unless you were by my side.

9 comments:

Elizabeth said...

I am glad you have a keeper. Home is a happier place when the Dads come home. I have been working on talking nicer to mine also. And not using him to unload days frustrations on.

Amy said...

I love your writing. This post (not about me or mine) serioiusly stirred my me&mine emotions. That's good writing, Ms. Jordan...Yay for a double dose of you today!

Kelly said...

I love how you express your feelings. These days of never enough Dad will end soon enough, and that will bring a revolution all its own. Like Elizabeth, so glad you have a keeper.

rebecca said...

I wish I heard Craig's Paris pronouncement in person. (In Paris, in fact! Why not.) He is one of a kind. As are you, and I am interested in your stir list - sentiments I recently wrote in my own journal. I have another book recommend on this subject... talk soon!

Sara said...

Mine too. . . tired, overworked, under paid, but always happy and kind and folding mountains of laundry. Me, not always! I too need to watch my big mouth. . . once again I am so glad to be in good company! Your posts always make me feel better. And you would have heard no "Ha" from me, I think you are fabulous always!

shawnaB. said...

Yep, he's a keeper! And a funny one at that - "I should have been born in Paris! Love it! You are a perfect match.

It seems I play the role of soup stirrer around here far too often - and it's not the good kind of stirring! And he just lets me, because he knows it makes me feel better. To be able to hold my tongue like Tyler does! And to fold those mountains of laundry ... how do they do it after a long, hard day at the hospital? They heaven they do.

Amber said...

I, too have a keeper and I, too am the more "expressive" of the two of us.

Something that has helped me in recent weeks was a quote I read in a parenting magazine that said to imagine your kids had a mirror on their foreheads and you could see your reflection and reaction to all their misdeeds. I thought it sounded pretty corny but it has worked. Seeing myself through my children's eyes is curbing my frustrations and is making me a better mother....

Katy said...

You are BOTH blessed to have found one another. Isn't it ironic how our traits that are loved (by our spouse and ourselves) are the very traits that drive our spouse crazy. We must simply (read sarcastically) discover how to bring out some "flavors" and mask others.

ingrid said...

OK, so I thought I was the only one with mountains of laundry to fold and the kindest, sweetest husband in the world who also folds without a peep after those endless days at the hospital. After reading your post and some of these fabulous ladies' responses, I feel in such great company! These men are keepers for sure! Jordan, I love this about you - how every time I read your blog, I am uplifted by your honesty in expressing feelings that we all too often have but fail to share. You are wonderful!