Transition

tran·si·tion

noun \tran(t)-ˈsi-shən,

1 : passage from one state, stage, subject, or place to another : change

Yep. Transition. THIS word.....and what it stands for....will be the slow death of me. It has taken its toll. Thirteen years of TRANSITION. I’m weak and weary. I need it to find comfort. Where oh where will comfort come from? I can tell you EXACTLY what object will help to bless my soul with peace.  A  tape recorder.

That’s right peeps. I want and desire an old fashioned tape recorder. The loudest most annoying tape recorder produced for public use. Heck I’d take a microphone if it were hooked up to one of those obnoxious speakers used in dance clubs. Ya know, the ones I stood by in college for three hours once a week and jammed out to Mel and the Party Hats....or The Jones Brothers.....or ….. nevermind...

Why do I desire to own such a heinous object  and how on earth will this bring me peace? This  object will allow me to save my voice. I can use it to replay my southern drawl through the TRANSITION of moving my CHILDREN from one “state, stage, subject, or place to another”.  That’s right folks. It isn’t the homework, car pools, laundry, or discipline that’s gonna send me to an early grave. It’s the transitioning from one thing to another that will make my wits turn mush. Not to mention that I cannot and will not be late...for anything. I refuse.

Now, before I give you my “this happened to me today...like all other days” story that makes you giggle....be aware that I discipline and manage my kids strong and steady.  They behave like good little younglings in public. They hold doors for people and are polite. They usually get along well.  It isn’t the actual outing that is horrid. . It’s the transition. It is frightening. It is endless. It can bring me to tears. I detest it.  

************The following is an accurate account  of events of the Martin household on 6/25/13. All characters are real and actual names have been used. Details and events have NOT been altered to”save face”.**************”

9:00 am  “Kids, we are going to the pool this afternoon at 3:00 after Scarlett’s nap. Make sure your chores are done and piano is practiced by 2:00 pm.”   “Yes Mam.”

2:00 pm   All chores and piano have been completed. “Kids, get your bathing suits on, find your flip flops (shoes MUST be worn to the pool here because the asphalt/concrete gets so hot they can burn their feet) and gather towels etc. I will start putting sunscreen on the littles in thirty minutes.”  “Yes Mam.”

2:45 pm  Sunscreen applied........ all suits are on.... and shoes found.  

2:55 pm “Ok kids, head to the car.”

“Mom’, Scarlett has pooped in her pants.”

~OK...get into the truck.

“Mom, Can I have a friend go with us?”

~No...get into the truck.

“Mom, I just cut my finger with the scissors trying to open the icee pop.”

~Here’s a band-aid. Now get into the truck.

“Brooks just said that I can’t play the Xbox when we get back from the pool so I’m going to hide the controller.”

~Brooks will be at practice. Get into the truck.

“Max just took the last Oreo”

~Lucky him. Get into the truck.

“Moooom, here is your phone....it was ringing from inside the truck.”

~Thank you...now get back into the truck.

“Hey...that  man is walking up our driveway....he wants to talk to you.”

~Thank you sir...I’ll make sure we shut our garage after we leave.

“Mom, I think you left the cooler with the drinks in it.”

3:00 Headed to the pool.

Transition. I will survive you. I can do hard things.

#bless