The power of "No."

To prepare for the big move, I've had to drop most of my responsibilities.
Those who know me in real life know that I am a "do-er." If something needs to be done.... I do it.
Over the years I have racked up a lot of experiences that I can keep on my resume.

I've been cub scout den leader, advancement coordinator, popcorn kernel, treasurer, cub master and Boy Scout Merit badge counselor. I've planned camp outs, Blue and Gold banquets, sold popcorn, decorated parade floats, and sang more songs than I can count.

I've planned fundraisers and carnivals. I've taught co-op classes and private lessons. I've coordinated field trips, social activities, and achievement testing.
I've baked, crafted, and hauled kids around for events.
I even ran a food drive for several years.

Any need, at any time.... If you asked me to do something, my answer was always "Sure."

With the move, I've had to stop. I've had to say no. "No," does not come easy for me.. I know I can't do it all but the guilt I feel is immense. It just goes against my nature to watch and not help. It feels selfish.

But I am learning the power of "no."

I'm learning that other will step up if the usual people aren't available. I'm learning that events will fail if people aren't that interested in participating....and that's ok. I'm learning that taking personal responsibility away from people does not serve them in the long run.
I'm also learning to be selective in choosing to do things that benefit our family.

ZD said that it was time to "shake the blanket" and give me time to relax. He's a wise man that ZooDad. He respects the power of "no."

In Which Sheila is Totally Misunderstood

Anders just entered the room with a 2 liter Dr. Pepper bottle and we had the following conversation.
"Mom, I need you to save me four of these bottles."

"What for?"

"Four, your know, more than three and less than five."

"No, What for?"

"Any four, Coke, Ginger Ale, Dr. Pepper....it doesn't matter."

"I mean, for what use do you want the bottles."

"Ooooooohhhh, I'm making a mannequin. And I need a milk jug. Not the chocolate milk size but the regular milk size."

Communication is tough around here.

Mommy guilt

I recently scored a hank of self-striping Vesper sock yarn. I have been coveting this yarn for a very, very long time but I can never seem to get it. But on this one day I managed to be home when the site updated, remember my pay-pal account info, and find a colorway that I really loved.

I was so happy when the yarn arrived that I left it out as decoration. That's how much I adored it. I planed to knit up some cute striped socks as soon as I finished my February Lady sweater.

That happened last night.
As soon as I wove in the very last end on my sweater, I started winding the hank of my sweet Vesper yarn. I had some trouble with the swift and got a huge tangle. In all it took almost an hour to get the ball wound. But that didn't damper my excitement about my soon to be knit socks. Even discovering that this was hand wash and dry yarn couldn't diminish my love for it.

After another half hour of wrangling, I managed to get the ball split into two even balls and matched up the stripes. Right as I finished up, Anders walked in.

Now this child rarely notices my knitting or yarn in particular. He never comments on what I'm working on. And although he is quite appreciative of what I make for him, he has never come out and asked me to knit anything for him.
Until last night.

Last night, he walked in and went straight to the red, blue, and lime yarn I had just wound, picked up a ball, and asked, "Whose yarn is this? I like this yarn?"
Selfish mother that I am, answered that it was my yarn and then proceeded to cast on 72 stitches for my striped stockinette socks. My dear son who is the most selfless creature I have ever known, didn't seem to be disappointed at all.

However, after 6 rows my mommy guilt kicked in and I ripped out all the rows. I immediately cast on 60 stitches for a smaller foot and knit until bedtime.

He's thrilled at the progress.

Made it this far.

Wow...he sure is getting big isn't he? I would like to know who swiped my baby and replaced him with the almost grown man.

Tomorrow night, I'll head up state to camp out. It's 4 hours to the camp and the parents are supposed to be there by 9 am Saturday morning. (Yeah, I did that same math and my eyes bugged out.)

The idea of leaving the house at 5am, picking up 5 smelly Scouts who have been out in the wilderness for a week, stuffing them and their gear into my nice clean van, then turning around to drive home for another 4 hours.....well that just doesn't scream "fun-filled day" to me.


It sure is a beautiful camp. You can't see the mountains in that shot....but they are there. It's just what camp is supposed to look like.
So the parents have been invited to camp out Friday night but we have to bring our own gear. Thankfully, there is no shortage of camping gear here at the Zoo. It's also cheaper than a hotel.

I'm rather proud of myself that I haven't already run up there and grabbed the boy and drug him back home. In fact, my entire family is impressed with my restraint. That's not the say that I haven't been miserable. I do OK during the day, but at night I fall apart. It's those cabins that do me in.

Would you call that a cabin? That's the quarters for 6 boys. At least he was wise enough to get a bottom bunk. I would rather have a tent personally. At least, you can keep the critters out of them.

I know he's had a great time. I can't wait to hear about his adventures.