A Letter to Keep me Honest...

I got this as an email this morning. My mother sent it to me (obviously)...

I am posting it here simply to keep me honest, because I know that I have, and will in the future complain, rant, stomp and scream at, about and around my sluggish time warped middle child...

This is to keep me honest, so that you all can say "Pie, check out your blog 1/24...Those apples that fall from trees can be fairly frustrating!"

So here you go enjoy having the dirt on me.....


I was sorting through papers I could throw away today and found a journal entry from graduate school that might sound familiar to you ... since you and the Bean are entering the same phase as parent and child. I hope it will make you laugh ... at me, at yourself, and at Bean. (The discussion in class was about how different cultures had different perceptions of time.)

"The first person that comes to mind when you refer to different concepts of time is my daughter, Leia, affectionately known to her family as "Pie." Pie's arrival into the world was timely - she was born at 7:30 a.m. My husband had to rush home to meet the movers who were coming at 8:30. After that, she was never anywhere on time.

"Clean up your room," her father would say at breakfast when she was but seven-years-old, "and I will check it tonight."

She would dutifully begin work at 2:30 after school, but after taking everything out her drawers to neaten them, everything from under her bed to store it away, and all her books from her bookcase to rearrange, she would find a scrap of paper to read, a poem to peruse, or a note from her friend that needed an immediate response. She would then descend into her own time warp. The results were always predictable - the room got messier and the parents got more frustrated.

And then came the teen years. "What time will you be home?" Well, there is a concert at Great Woods that gets over at midnight. By the time she arrived home at 3:30, I was ready to call the state police and the national guard. Papers due? Time is just a number.

Love you much, MOM