Itâ€™s such an odd feeling when your children surpass you in wisdom.Â Well, okay, maybe wisdom isnâ€™t the right word.Â Maybe they know you so well that they kindly suggest your behavior isnâ€™t in your best interest, thereby causing you to slap your head and wonder why you didnâ€™t realize you were about to drive into a lake because the GPS device said to do it, or to buy the cassette player on clearance.
My daughter sent me a cheerful email this morning and nailed me on my genetically-caused inability to form the word, â€œno.â€ It has to be genetics, right? I mean otherwise Iâ€™m responsible for doing things I donâ€™t want to do, but do anyway to be nice.
Donâ€™t even get me started on the recent list of activities Iâ€™ve been part of when in fact I need to be working on my Masterâ€™s Capstone Project.Â Saying â€œnoâ€ is just so freakâ€™n hard.Â I hate the look of disappointment on peopleâ€™s faces, and besides, that Lutheran voice in my head saying I should give more, be more, do more, wonâ€™t stop talking at me.
My daughter suggested I start practicing saying the word â€œnoâ€ on little things, and then build my way up to the big ones that derail me. â€œNo, I donâ€™t want to squeeze the toothpaste only from the very bottom of the tube.â€Â Hmmm. That wasnâ€™t too hard. Whatâ€™s next?
So, if you are someone dear to me, and have never heard me say no to you in the past, be prepared.Â Iâ€™m working on a better, saner, me.
Having adult children willing to say the things I need to hear? Definitely the best part of my day.
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