It’s hard to be consistent all the time, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. I know that it sounds like a classic oxymoron. You’re right, it is. Alas, it is so true, at least for me. Especially as a parent, I can establish the rule, re-establish it, enforce, it, enforce it, and enforce it. Then I somehow let it slip because either Sam’s tired/I’m tired/he’s hungry/I’m hungry/he’s doesn’t feel good/I’m don’t feel good, or it’s the middle of the night and I’m ready to lose my beleaguered mind, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
However, in defense of consistent consistency, I do notice that the more consistent that I am, the smoother things do flow around here. I admit it. I guess when you are a wee little munchkin with no real control over any aspect of your life, then it is reassuring to know that some things in life are predictable and will remain that way, period. Nobody likes having the rules changed on them, unless it happens to be your own decision in which case it seems like a great idea.
As I was writing this, I was supposed to making the green beans for dinner while Bernie was doing the grilling. The steaks are ready to be devoured, but the green beans remain in their little baggy in the crisper. Oh well, tomorrow is another day to practice being consistent. I guess I’ll take the rest of the day off and start fresh in the morn.
Inconsistently yours,
LibbY