Can I confess a shameful secret that only my family, good friends, and bosses have ever known about me?
I am time challenged.
How on earth I’ve managed to get through to this point in my life, with this disability, is still a complete mystery to me. Looking back through the years, I’ve been this way my entire life. I have raced against the clock for decades. I’m 38; it’s been decades! Well, probably 2-2.5 but that is still plural. I haven’t mastered a way to beat it yet.
And guess what?
Do you ever think about how rich you would be if you were to get paid for all you did for your children? Ya, I rarely do either. Because, well, let’s face it, it’s our job. But when did it become our kid’s job to not work? I’ve heard the stories. Maybe you have too.Great Grandpa walked to school and back in the snow. Over the hill. Ten miles. He made the long trip after he had already been up since 4 a.m. milking the cows, delivered two sows (that’s a grown female pig. Probably didn’t deliver that but hey!) and fed the chickens. When grandpa got home, sure he had homework, but that was done after he plowed the field, helped his daddy with the wagon harnesses and prepared the barn for momma’s canning (I always wanted to can so I tossed that in there).
I don’t know about you, but being a single mom is HARD work. A different kind of hard work than our great grandparents may have had but never-the-less, it’s hard work. Why, then, does it seem like we give our children the easy way out? Why is it that we don’t make them push to be there best? Not only push them to be their best but set the standard and expectations around the house and assist them in following through. Well, my dear friend, if this is something you struggle with, I’m here to tell you…