Shattered Hopes

You won’t believe it…

The confinement, the irrelevant activities, the asinine pay (Stickers? Really?), the mind-numbing speeches, and the out-and-out horror that was Kindergarten, couldn’t keep me from being…

PROMOTED!

Yes, me! I am in FIRST grade now! I am six! Look out world, things are about to get exciting!

So, here I come, flitting into my new first grade class, with my new first grade teacher, in a brand-spankin’ new school, and guess what???

Being six, apparently, doesn’t mean that school is any better, or any different. It was the same mind-numbing experience.

I was appalled!

I mean, I have a baby brother now. I change his diapers. I get him up in the morning. I give him his bottle. I am being a mom.

Obviously, I already know everything if I can take care of Bill! Why couldn’t these teachers see that?

Why did I have to practice putting away my coat and my lunch box, when I knew how to diaper an infant without getting peed on?

I mean, come on! Wake up and smell the coffee, lady! I am not some idiot! I already know how to do the hardest job on earth!

One hundred and seventy seven days…

God save me now…

A Hero In The Making...

How strange to have a boy in the house. And, how exciting.

We all helped Mom. He belonged to all of us. And I am sure that confused him, but who wouldn’t want four ladies fawning over all over you?

His rear was never wet, his room was never messy, his bottle was always full, and his every coo and babble caused an instantaneous reaction….

The oohs and aahhs going on in our house would put any fireworks demonstration to shame.

Yes, we smothered him, but he didn’t seem to mind. And, Bill being Bill, he understood at a very early age that we meant well. Our protective moments, our constant assistance was never met by an angry cry. He let us fuss over him with a sweet smile on his face.

(Of course, he might’ve been milking it. He didn’t independently clean his room until he was in school.)

Bill was smart. Ordered, steady, observant, and quiet. He added calm to the chaos over our home. And everything was better because of him.

And, while it would be challenging for him to grow up with four women surrounding him, his biggest test was coming…

Failure was not an option.

Oh, Bill! I love you still and I always will!

Mothers…

They always get to do what they want. It’s maddening. And they’re always telling you what to do and how to do it.

And if you have a good idea, they pretty much shoot it down because it might get something dirty. Or get something broken. Or make something smelly.

So, my suggestion of naming my new brother “Bill” was not going over well. It was clear I wasn’t going to win.

I begged, I pleaded, I called him Bill just to get her warmed up to the idea and to see that, HECK YEAH, he was a Bill!

But it didn’t work and she did what she wanted to do and named him after my dad and a priest if you can believe it!

Well, guess what????

She ain’t writin’ this blog so now I get to win!

My brother will be Bill.

Because he is amazing. Because he is smart. Because he is going to have to be tough with three older sisters around. Because he is talented.

And…because he is a survivor…just like another man I know…