Monday, October 1, 2007

Raising Children is like being Pecked to Death by Chickens

Before I leave this room, I have to tell you about this sign that is on the previous blog, which I found at the Mount Croghan Flea Market. I was walking by the table and my eye caught this sign. It just goes to show how fast the mind works, I was walking by the table. I turned around and came back to this little board, white edged in green and on it said:
raising children is like being pecked to death by chickens
You know, only a parent could see that sign, see the truth in it and see the humor in it at the same time. I was bent over this sign laughing like a mad woman, asked the man behind the table how much for the sign, he said "how's about a dollar?" and me, usually so reasonable, said "how about 50 cents?" because I could really make this sign myself, I have the boards and I have the paint. I have the little drill bits to drill the holes in the top to put the twine to hang it. He said no. So, I'm still laughing to beat the band because I see the truth in this statement and it seems I have volunteered TO BE PECKED TO DEATH BY CHICKENS, but I'm walking away still shaking my head and laughing. So, the nice man yells out to me before I can get away from his table and go spend my lousy fifty cents elsewhere, "I'll ask her, wait a minute, (Hon, will you take fifty cents for the sign?) hey lady, (and here he sounded just like Jerry Lewis, Hey LADYYY) and so that is how I come to be the owner of a sign that most children would resent their parents for even thinking about wanting. But listen, you're a parent. Remember the first time they cried all night but couldn't tell you what was wrong, then just as suddenly as they started, they stopped? (PECK) Remember the first day of school when you asked fourteen times, do you have everything and as you are walking up to the front door of the school they announce they forgot their lunch? (PECK) Remember the first time they came home with a note from their teacher but you don't find it until you break down and go clean their room? (PECK) Remember the first time they volunteer for you to take custody of the baby chickens they raised from eggs in class because they know you won't eat them? (PECK PECK). Remember when they turned thirteen? (PECK PECK PECK) and that was just the beginning. It got so much worse....Well, you get my point. I saw in my mind all the little indentations on my skin where the worry and the hurt the tears and the anger, had left their imprint. We call them wrinkles. Luckily, I don't have any wrinkles on my heart, that's why I can see the humour in this sign and hang it proudly for all the world to see.


Sophie Honeysuckle said...

Oh that was a lovely post-especially the last little bit! And so funny and true! I don't have any children of my own, but after teaching them all day, I can so agree with what you say!
Hope you feel a bit better soon Sandi-you need some nutritious grits to cheer you up!xx

Sophie Honeysuckle said...

Hi Sandi-forgot to say I sent you a thank-you email, but after what happened last time it may not get to you lol!! Let me know if it doesn't get there and I'll try again! xx

Lisa Johnson said...

I so loved your post. So true! I love my kids, but I do feel sometimes like I am being poked to death by chickens.

Thanks for the laugh!


Abbie said...

lol, that awesome!
Some of us are still being pecked it's a rollercoaster ride!