Dying to one's self

Being a mother and a wife is not that easy. It entails dying to one’s self. It means letting go of some of one’s habits and quirks, the ones that you’ve embraced while growing up (old).

I am a bit obsessive-compulsive about my things. I am not exactly a neat freak like Martha Stewart but I know where my things are. And I know when someone took it and failed to put it back where it belongs. My husband knows this and I realize now what a pain in the neck I can be sometimes when I bug him endlessly about having to put the nailclipper in the third drawer on the left side of our dresser. Not on top of the dresser. Not in the second drawer. It should remain exactly where it is supposed to be. I like knowing where my things are and I know it drives him crazy sometimes. He is the type who, having come home from work, just throws all his keys, wallet, eyeglasses, cellphone at the first most convenient spot then runs around in the morning trying to figure out where his stuff are. I bought him a tiny basket where he can dump in all his things so he knows exactly where to find them. To no avail. (Now that basket holds our numerous chargers – laptop, PDA, phones, etc.)

I have a pencil case that holds my highlighter, a pencil, a very trusty sharpener, and my favorite eraser, among other things. (Mind you, it is hard to find a trusty sharpener). Anyway, I use these daily because I am in the process of reviewing for an upcoming certifying/board exam. My kids - a toddler and two preschoolers - are fascinated by my things. They have dozens of pencils and a few sharpeners and erasers strewn all over the house. But my 4-year-old daughter just loves my plain, blue, old eraser. I tried giving her a bright red pencil with eraser… didn’t want it. I offered her a mickey mouse pencil. She didn’t want it. Finally, I went to the bookstore and bought each of my kids a nice eraser… one that’s extra nice for my four-year-old… it’s glittery and shaped like a pretty butterfly. That didn’t work either.

She just kept on ransacking my pencil case and it drove me crazy every single day.

I have now come to terms with it and said to myself that it’s time to choose my battles and that I am one crazy woman for going nuts over one silly eraser. Now I let her take it whenever she pleases so long as she puts it back where it belongs.

Now, where the heck is my yellow highlighter?