Independence

Lately I have thought a lot about independence. Independence in my own life and independence for my children. I don't think I really like independence for myself and definitely not for my children. :)

I want to be independent. No wait. I want people to think I am independent. But really I don't want to be. Independence means responsibility. It means you are solely responsible. It means you don't depend on anyone else to do anything for you. Thats not me. I want to have someone take care of me. I do. Now I would never admit this to anyone. I want people to believe I am a VERY independent woman. But really, I want someone to pay my bills for me (it can be with my money, but just make sure they are paid), cook me dinner, wash my laundry, cut my grass (oh wait I have someone to do that!) make my decisions, fill my car with gas, clean my bathroom, clean the litter box, have my oil changed, go grocery shopping and nanny my kids. Heck I would love someone to go to work for me too. Part time anyway.

So I think that means I am lazy. Pure lazy. But - honestly, is there anyone out there that really enjoys those things? Its not that I don't do those things. I just hate doing them. Being independent (and single) means you have to do all of those things yourself. No one else is going to do them for you. You HAVE to do them. All on your own. So, yes I am independent. Yes I take care of my responsibilities. No, I do not enjoy them. Yes I wish someone else would do them for me. No, I wouldn't be lazy - I would do tons of other things - just all fun things. Like go to the pool with the kids everyday. Be on Big Brother (thats for you Cindy!), visit Italy, take up scrapbooking, write more blogs, go skydiving and the list could go on for ever. Thats not lazy right?

Now the funny thing is, as much as I am fighting myself having to be independent, I am fighting my kids not to be. Noah is only eight. He would say he is eight going on 30. I told him if that were the case he wouldn't want to be independent! LOL He wasn't understanding. But as a mom you realize you have to start letting go. Letting them be a little more independent. So I am taking baby steps. Its been scary. This is my story in first steps of baby steps.

I work from home on Mondays and Wednesdays so I can stay at home with the boys. I work in my bedroom, in my bed, in the mornings. I have been letting the boys get up and make their own breakfasts (poptarts). It has worked out great because they get to feel independent and I get to feel less responsible. Well it was working out great.

One morning I was in bed working. Yes, I was working. The most comfortable place in the world to sit on my laptop and work. Up the stairs comes Jonah. I can already hear the whine in his footsteps up the stairs. In the room he comes with his whiney footsteps. "Mommy?" he says. "Yes, Jonah?" I respond. "The pizza fell out of the refrigerator and I can't put it back."

At this point I need to explain. The night before we had pizza for dinner. We had leftovers so I crammed the leftovers into a container too small. It all fit but it was smashed in there.

I asked Jonah what he was doing in the refrigerator and he said he was looking for something to eat. It was probably around 11 am. I suggested to him to just eat the pizza. He asked how he was going to heat it up. I at first told him to just eat it cold and when he complained I told him to stick it in the microwave and hit the "EZ button" once. This is the button on my microwave that automatically puts 45 sec on and starts the microwave. He said ok and went downstairs. I didn't hear anything more from him.

That afternoon after hours of work in bed I got up and went downstairs to get something to eat. This is where the story gets good. I walk into the kitchen and notice a frozen pizza (not frozen anymore) wrapper sitting on the stove. I called for Noah. I asked him how he heated the pizza up. He said in the microwave. I couldn't believe it.

Evidently, Jonah was actually in the freezer and the frozen pizza fell out. So the boys took that pizza, unwrapped it and put it on a plate. They then put it in the microwave. I asked them how long they cooked it. They said the just kept hitting the "pizza" button until it was hot! I was laughing so hard I couldn't hardly contain myself. Noah couldn't figure out what in the world was so funny.

So I asked if they ate it. They said yes. The entire pizza. So my poor kids ate an entire frozen pizza that had been microwaved. That is what I call letting your kids be independent.

Thats my story on independence. I still don't really want to be independent and the boys are still pushing to be.