Facilitating or Controlling?

We just got home from my trip.  My son drove me there and back.  I always enjoy a trip with my son for we have time to catch up on the latest in each others life.  Regular visits find interruptions and tight schedules, with other people crowding around.  Sensitive topics or inner feelings can not be shared in that atmosphere.  You parents out there know what I mean.  Dads take sons out fishing, Moms go shopping and to lunch with their daughter.  I like to take trips with my son.

This also is a double-edge sword, however.  He likes to pick and tease at me.  He finds subjects that have some truth in them, and he enjoys that even more.  Now, he knows my Achilles heel is the safety of my children.  I went through great torment allowing him to ride to the store alone on his bicycle when he was young.  Of course, it was about three miles away…

Case in point, we were nearing our destination today and I was apprehensive as to the outcome, so I asked my son if he minded if I prayed. “No, Mom, you can pray anytime you want to do so,” he quipped.  While I was praying with my eyes open (he was driving and I wanted to see where he was going), I saw he was not taking the exit that would have been best.  I resolutely kept on praying without prompting him.  At the end of the prayer, he discovered his mistake and laughed, saying, “I knew you wanted to tell me where to go…”  I replied, “But you see that I didn’t say anything.”

We walked through my appointments, with him smiling at how I was juggling not double-checking to see if they were doing their job properly, and protecting my well being.  I thought I balanced those tasks pretty well, and even saved some grief by asking the clerk to check out an item that saved a lot of trouble.  I was pretty proud of myself, controlling my need to control.

In the way home, we drove into a heavy thunderstorm.  I had been napping, but sat up and asked my son if maybe he needed to slow down or pull off the road.  “Now, Mom, why would I want to do that when there is zero visibility?” he asked, not being able to resist poking fun at me a little more.  He’s just like his grandfather, who loved to joke around more than anything.

As we entered the door back home, my husband who doesn’t read much, met me at the door and told me he had read a few more pages of my new book, but he fell asleep.

“Well, why don’t you throw away your sleeping pills, and just read my book at bedtime each night?” I asked.  How can I have a humble temperament when I live around these clowns?  Well, payback is sweet if done properly and with love.  No drawing blood allowed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

controlling my need to control.

In the way home, we drove into a heavy thunderstorm.  I had been napping, but sat up and asked my son if maybe he needed to slow down or pull off the road.  “Now, Mom, why would I want to do that when there is zero visibility?” he asked, not being able to resist poking fun at me a little more.  He’s just like his grandfather, who loved to joke around more than anything.

As we entered the door back home, my husband who doesn’t read much, met me at the door and told me he had read a few more pages of my new book, but he fell asleep.

“Well, why don’t you throw away your sleeping pills, and just read my book at bedtime each night?” I asked.  How can I have a humble temperament when I live around these clowns?  Well, payback is sweet if done properly and with love.  No drawing blood allowed.