We've Reached That Point

Irritated, I ransack the dryer for that final sock. Nothing was left but a couple of washcloths and a towel.  I look at the sock basket. The one piled high with socks because it shreds my nerves I'm too lazy to sort through them. I find one similar but not the same. For me or the kids, similar would work just fine but not for the husband, so look at the neat stacks I've already folded and I notice something. In my son's stack, I see a pair of socks that look almost the same, but something is a little different. Oh yeah! One has a gray bottom, the other is just white. There's my final sock. I hold the two socks up and I almost tear up. We've reached that point. Our children are big enough that I can't tell what is mine from my daughter's or my son's from my husband's. It's a sad, sad, day.

Driving to school one day, my son's friend (a classmate that carpools with us) got out her phone and was turning it off as we pulled in the parking lot. My child says, "Gyah, Mama won't let me have a phone til I get to seventh grade!" I tell him that he doesn't even talk on the phone....ever, so all he would use it for is texting and I'll get him one when he leaves the comforts of the elementary school, and heads over the scary high school. I am the ridiculous mother...we've reached that point.

The two kids that used to run around the yard together (all day long), collect worms and frogs just to freak me out and play in the tree house together, now can't play peacefully together for more than fifteen minutes. She's still into her dolls and playing school while he's hunting with a B B gun and looking for firewood. Unfortunately, we've reached that point.

I'm just looking to come out of this alive and with all my limbs. I may have to donate some brain cells as I lose everything from common sense to data that used to be important like my age, weight, and birthday.