My mom accused me of something heinous. She said I’m not easy-going. This from a woman who, when we were kids, used to shout from the foot of the stairs on Saturday mornings “Girls, get up! Make your beds!” after she had woken us up by dragging the canister-style Electrolux down the stairs.
Laissez-faire is clearly in our DNA.
I think I’m (sometimes) laid back. I’m not. But I want to be! That’s the difference. I want to be. I don’t want to care whether or not my husband takes the reusable bags to Trader Joe’s. I don’t want to chase him out the door, waving the bags in my hand Just take them! and have him roll his eyes at the reality that is his wife. I wish I didn’t count cutting into an unwashed cantaloupe on my list of “risky behaviors”. Or even worse – leaving the house with the dryer on.
I hope I balance the scales with charm and wit, but that is subject to opinion.
Does it mean I’m a little cool, calm, and/or collected if I saw a tiny gnat fly into the coffee pot this morning and I poured the water in anyway and made gnat-coffee? Check off the “relaxed” box for today’s behavior chart. I did good.
As I write I hear my
control freak darling son calling me from the bedroom where he’s playing with Madeleine. He is actually right now telling me to come into the bedroom and instructing me on how I should discipline his sister.
Oh dear God…there’s two of us.