Friday, February 25, 2011

mufd me moww

Muf mundmrl fjeklnne kdimf. Hard to talk with my foot in my mouth.

Sometimes there just isn't enough room in my mouth for my foot. Still I continually try to fit it into the limited space. Often I think I must have two on their way in.

There is a fine line between trying to help and adding pressure. I weigh it more now than when my mouth ran off leaving my brain behind. Sometimes trying to protect our own only leaves us out in the cold when it comes to communication.

I'm always reminded of the line from Free to Be You and Me, "Some kind of help is the kind of help some can do without."

I hated unsolicited advice. Many times it was because it hit a sensitive part of me. It hit home. 'Not asked for, don't offer'. So, puppy and I sit this morning chewing on our feet.

I want more for my daughter than I have for me. I don't want to see her struggle. We put our children first. We put their fathers first. But what example do we show our children when we expect so little for ourselves?  I expect so little for what I contribute. Yet I try to maintain balance.

So this morning I did well at stuffing my foot into that gapping mouth. Open wide, insert foot. I cannot protect. I cannot make her decisions. I cannot change the histories of us both. Heck, at my age, I have enough trouble not tripping over my own feet let alone stuffing them into my mouth.

Oh, I slip. I backtrack. I often find myself in a self-imposed time out. We do the best we can and slip up now and then. Every time a new lesson learned or an old one needing reassessment.

It's not easy being a parent or a grandparent. All we can do is to do the best we can with feet planted firmly on terra firma.

Have a good weekend, my friends. Each day is a new beginning.

2 comments:

  1. Fun how we both posted about foot in mouth disease today, Pam. Maybe it spreads like the flu.

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  2. Do you think there is an an antidote for it????

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