How is it that you can arrive home from town with a trunk full of groceries, walk in the house and immediately put something on your grocery list?
Why is it that a Mom just can.not.wait to go to bed, while the kids have to be herded, prodded and pushed there? But as soon as their lights go out, Mom doesn’t go to bed. Instead, she props open her eyelids and stays up much longer then she should. Why?
Why is on nights when you put the kids to bed and then go to bed shortly thereafter, they all stay in bed? And then on nights when you stay up until half past the moon, every other kid and their brother gets up in need of something or other and you have to quickly hide your snack? Every single time!
How can it be so that when the child of the household with the least amount of hair is told to take a shower, he will ask every.single.night. “Do I have to wash my hair?”
Whyyyyy do they always want supper?
And why do I wait until an hour before our evening meal and then go into panic mode over what to make? Where is the structured, organized woman inside me that plans everything to a T? She seems to have gone missing.
Why are Monday mornings so dreadful? Is it because I didn’t keep up with the housework on Sunday and have a mound of dishes? Or maybe it’s Mt. Laundry down the hall waiting on me? Or maybe it’s a stigma of my brain just saying, “It’s Monday again. Let it be blue!”
Why did the creators of children’s toothpaste choose the color of brightest blue?
Why is it when we study memory verses for school that there is absolutely no retaining memory whatsoever. none. But the next day the teacher texts and says, “Word perfect!” How?
Why is it that after so many years of battling small children during church that when you find yourself sitting with only your 10-year-old at your side, you don’t even know how to concentrate anymore?
Why do I bother cleaning up around here? It takes less than 2.5 seconds after they hit the door for the fur to hit the ceiling and what a mess it is!
How is it that my children were born with such a marvelous knowledge of everything? No matter what advice, direction or command I give them, the reply is always the same, “I KNOW!” (now to ensure the proper understanding of this, one must draw out that last word long on the accent and the octaves rising over the syllables of the O‘s.
“I K-N-O-O-O-W!“ They know everything. It truly is amazing.
But thee most unbelievable part of it is this, 2 minutes after they K-N-O-O-O-W, they don’t know. When you ask them a question as to why they did or did not do a certain thing, the reply is always the same, “ I didn’t K-N-O-O-O-W!”
Tell me, how can this be? They K-N-O-O-O-W, but yet they didn’t K-N-O-O-O-W.
Why is it that my clutter doesn’t bother me that much at all, but when the kids fill the entire desk with their stuff, I like to lose my mind with it all?
Why is it after I have just swept and mopped the floor that the sudden urge to eat crackers hits them all?
Why can my children not find their library book straight up in their backpack but they can see my candy wrapper at the bottom of the trash bag from 5 days ago?
Why do we wait until the last minute to do the nasty jobs? Why not do them immediately and get it over with?
With the amount of tangled, gross hair I extracted from the innards of my sweeper, someone in this house should be bald!
Does it seem to you that Praise and Worship songwriters these days must wear out their copy and paste method?
Why is everything I love to eat bad for me?
Why do little people feel the need to snip around on their hair?
Yet the same three-year-old these days, when did she become so grown up? Like sitting and sipping cold coffee and when I go to take the cup she says, “Hey! I’m drinking that!” And when she saw her name in the church bulletin announcing her upcoming birthday and she says, “Hey! We need to get home and get started on my cake!”
How is it that a kid can rip, run, jump, and tear around the house for an hour but when asked to go downstairs and get something from the freezer … my word, they almost pass out from sheer exhaustion. It is as if their Mother had forced them to climb Mt Rushmore without oxygen!
Why do we wait until someone is gone to tell everyone about their strengths? Why don’t we tell them while we still have them with us?
How is it that I was able to keep this plant alive for almost 5 months?
It loves dry and unattended soil.
And where is my urge to go to the basement and sew costumes for the school play?