My stepdaughters are wonderful (I hate the word step.) Anyway, they're wonderful, polite, conscientious young ladies that would do just about anything for anybody. They have big hearts and big smiles. Kayla loves to write poems, notes and songs. She plays beauty shop with me and fixes my hair in different styles almost every night they're here (ok, maybe that one gets put on hold for a while.) Kenzie loves science and reading. She's not as outgoing and you have to sit and really listen sometimes to really understand her because she can be such a wonderful, deep thinker.
They're the best daughters I could have asked for- and then I go and do this to them.
Have you ever seen that pair of shoes? You know, that pair of kids shoes that sits smack in the middle of the (insert any room of the house here) floor. The shoes sit, hour after hour. People walk around them. They trip over them. It drives the parent nuts but the kids never seem to notice them.
I guess I was in a 'mood' a few days after the diagnosis and instead of picking them up I wanted to see how long it would take one of the girls to pick up their own shoes. Bad idea. The shoes sat there......and sat there....and sat there. The dog sniffed them. Noah picked them up and threw them. But the girls never touched them.
By about 3pm that afternoon I had enough. I sat the girls down and at that moment some infantile, witchy little monster took over my vocal chords and went down this road:
"Do either of you see the shoes in the middle of the floor? Do you know how long they've been there? How many times do you think you've stepped over them today? Are you waiting for the dog to chew them up? Would you like Noah to put them on and head out the door? Are they there because you think you just might need them in a mad dash out the door to Target, so it's more convenient to keep them centralized?"
The girls eyes were saucers when I then dove into this little diddy:
"Girls, do you know years ago that girls/children your age were responsible for raising entire families?? Kenzie- at 12 years old do you know many, many girls your age used to have to drop out of school to care for 9 younger siblings because for one reason or another they had no mother? Did you know that?? Do you know that girls your age used to have to make entire meals and cook and clean every day and night to keep things running? I'm not talking P B and J here people- I'm talking cooking! I think my own grandmother had a life much like that! I think she raised alllll her other siblings by the time she was YOUR age. (I'm not sure on that at all, it just came out.) What do you think of that????"
Out of nowhere I launched into this number:
"Has either of you read the Little House on the Prairie book series?? Either of you?? No!! Really? Well this weekend we are heading right up to the library and getting those books so you can learn a thing or two. Laura Ingalls Wilder didn't leave shoes in the middle of the floor. Mary went blind and still helped her mom clean house!!"
I'm not exaggerating, I really said all that. I have no idea where Little House comes to play in this situation. The girls were looking at each other like "Ms. Cathy has lost it." But hey, they picked up the shoes.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I'm sure I was thinking what might happen if I don't feel good from treatment and can't clean/cook as much as usual. Of course I didn't say much about that to the kids and scare them. A dose of Little House won't hurt anyone. Just pick up the stinking shoes.
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