Skip to main content

A Woman's Job

Emma has just declared to me (with her little hands balled up into fists and placed defiantly on her hips) that a woman doesn't give up on her job until it is done. It is hard to not laugh at her little lip stuck out as she tries not to cry.  You see, this heroically delivered statement is done so in reference to her beloved Gig'Ems, a stuffed monkey she sleeps with that has gone missing.  It probably helps that it gives her a reason (about the twenty-seventh, I think) to get out of bed and come to my room.  

I sent her back to her room with the suggestion that Gig'Ems is probably buried deep in all the junk on her floor.

The twenty-eighth reason involved a dramatic monologue of the depth of her love for Gig'Ems and further declarations that she will never,never give up on him, and that he was not where I said.

The twenty-ninth time brought an extended period of wailing and crocodile tears, topped off with a dramatic flailing of herself across my lap with "I must find him, I cannot sleep without him!"  

It is becoming very apparent that neither shall I.

I am a little concerned about this flair she has for the dramatic, as I am relatively intolerant of drama queens.  I am pretty sure both God and my mother somehow conspired against me, and they both cannot wait until she is a teenager.  I have my own private Scarlet O'Hara.   Although the screams of Gig'Ems coming from her room reminds me more of Marlon Brando's anguished "Stella!".

I know that all of this is part of a bigger plot.....one more devious in nature.  She fully intends to act her way not to an academy award, but to a place in Mama's bed (she has an audience of one, since daddy is out of town.). That is the true goal of this little woman, and she will not give up until it is done.  And most likely, given that at some point I must sleep or society as a whole will be in danger, she will accomplish her purpose.

But I bet I find Gig'Ems tomorrow, and if I don't wring his neck for being duplicit in her one-act play, maybe I will get to have a drama-free night of rest.  Oh yes, finding him will become MY job, and this woman will not give up until it is done!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Texas, Our Texas!

Fires, tornadoes, drought, and now a hurricane.  It has been a rough time for our Lone Star State. I felt like she needed a love letter. Early in the year, fires in the panhandle had trucks come up the highways and interstates providing assistance to panhandle families who had lost family, herds, fences, and feed. Now, in the wake of Harvey, those trucks have been turned around, and the Panhandle sends them back full to the coastal families who now find themselves in need.  (Our mamas taught us you never return a dish empty.)  Our hearts ache for our fellow Texans on the coast.  We know too well the feeling of loss.   Regardless of the challenges ahead of us, we Texans generally manage to rise to the occasion.  We don't have time to worry about those things that really don't matter.  We have a job to do.  I'm proud of my state and her residents.  Those of us who trace our lineage back to the very founding of this Great State have had...

Medical Sparring

My father.  The infamous Oso.  The Bear. Just as when one is dealing with his spirit animal, one should always proceed with caution with my paternal parental unit.  Not everyone is ready for his wit and charm, but doctors in particular seem to struggle with quite how to deal with the man. In Oso's not-so-humble opinion doctors are by-and-large "quacks".  The many years of medical training they have is bunk, and they have no idea what they are talking about.  He has stretched the patience of more than one member of the AMA, leading one to proclaim my father "the most non-compliant patient I have ever seen."  And, this particular doctor used to be a prison doctor!  That statement actually exists in a medical chart.  It also happen to provide my father with a peculiar point-of-pride.  In his mind, this meant he won. With mom's passing, I have inherited the dubious honor of accompanying my father to the more important doctor visits.  W...

Sometimes, Life Ain't Fair

I generally try to keep my blog relatively light-hearted.  I poke fun at myself and my loved ones because I think it helps to keep perspective.  Sometimes we take ourselves too seriously, and we just need a reminder that life is pretty good in the grand scheme of things. But sometimes, life ain't fair. What follows is an honest, heart-felt post.  It will not be easy to read at times.  Consider yourself warned.  There are no such things as safe spaces in my world. Few outside of an FFA or 4H program understand "why" we show livestock.   Sadly, the concept of raising livestock, having any kind of inkling or understanding of how and where one's food comes from (besides the grocery store) is foreign to most, even some of you who follow this blog.  (I love you anyway, but sometimes I worry about you.) There is a fascination with our lifestyle, and I generally become the defacto ag teacher in work meetings as I explain what my kids were doing in rece...