When the Going Gets Tough

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Eggs and Blue Bowl

I was just getting my day started this morning when the phone rang. It was Sissy’s school and they wanted me to come and get her. She had been behaving badly and had told her teacher to “Shut up!” Because of the type of work I do I was able literally drop everything and go and pick her up.

This happens a few times every year. I completely understand that they don’t want to deal with her when she is like this, neither do I, but she is my child and my responsibility and I can’t easily hand her off when the going gets tough.

I have a hard time making her spend a whole day paying for what she did in the morning. It becomes a punishment for me also, and seems like it is a little cruel to her. I have to keep her occupied, but not doing anything she enjoys. Doing fun things would be rewarding the bad behavior, but too much of the boring, not fun thing causes her to act up out of frustration and boredom, which maybe what happen at school today.

She is very bright but her decision making skills are like those of a four year old. She is amazingly impulsive and her moods change on a dime. I never know from one moment to the next what I will be dealing with. She is like the wind, the most capricious person I have ever known.

Sometimes you can see it coming, a few years ago she got away from me at the library, ran up to the second floor and shoved a big picture book through the banister of the mezzanine. I was trying to catch up to her and quietly (it’s a library, right?) telling her to come back. She turned the book sideways and could not pull it back through. She is jerking on the book and I am hissing at her to stop, while the ladies at the circulation desk below have no clue that they are in danger from my daughter, with a little help from Dr. Seuss.

I love to go camping but the time she locked herself and my bichon in a port-a-potty was more then enough for me, and my camping days are over.

Other times these things sneak up on me, waking me up from a sound sleep, “We're having omelets for breakfast!” I race down stairs to find every bowl I own scattered though out the living room, with one egg broken it each, most with plenty of shell. Two dozen eggs! I could yell and scream, or we could make omelets.

When the going gets tough the tough make omelets.

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1 Response to “When the Going Gets Tough”


  1. 1 loveathome April 15, 2006 at 8:27 pm

    This is from my email:

    “I loved your story about Sissy. I can see you and her making omelets together. Of course you had enough for the entire block!
    Love ya
    Pammy”

    Love you too! Thank you for being such a good friend all these years.


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