Shoulds

Lately I’ve been working on “shoulds.” Or in other words, employing an ironic method of looking at a situation in order to bring it into focus. And also in order to laugh. When I am feeling frustrated, I try to think of the hovering “shoulds” that are leading me to react in irrational ways. Some people I get irrationally frustrated with from time to time include:

My dearest Lars 

"A 2-year-old should know better than to dump an entire full bottle of cinnamon into his oatmeal and stir it with his hands."

Tearful Ida 

"A 5-year-old girl should always be patient with her rowdy brothers."

My loving (hungry) husband 

"Matt should not have eaten the leftover chicken I planned to eat for lunch. I deserved that chicken."

Fidgety Theo 

“Once he’s spent the morning at school, come straight home and practiced piano, gone to his piano lesson, come home and completed his homework, taken out the trash, sat at the table and eaten dinner, a 7-year-old should still be able to sit quietly during family home evening and not jump back and forth between the couches while giggling hysterically." 

(Lightbulb: have active FHEs with plenty of games and slightly more structured silliness...and on the busiest days like Mondays when a good stretch of playing might not happen on its own, fit in deliberate playing time in the afternoon. Preferably outdoors.)

Myself 

"I should be organized and calm enough not to fall apart or to let my kids fall apart. Even if I got 5 hours of sleep last night and all I've eaten today is a piece of string cheese and 2 fun-sized candy bars.” 

Getting past my subconscious supermom agenda is next on my list. I only recently discovered this. I thought the wannabe supermoms were the ones baking muffins for the PTA at 3 a.m. and driving their kids to a million activities. My own personal supermom devil-on-the-shoulder is more like the type that tells me I should be functioning brilliantly and pleasantly while barely taking care of myself.

 

What a jerk, eh? She must be the same voice telling me to push through another hour of that Veronica Mars marathon even if it is midnight already. Yes, I blame her.