Not too long ago, my Boy went to Canada with his brother and Dad. The kids and I stayed home because…you know what, that’s not important. We stayed home, as we sometimes do, right?
When James returned and people realized that I had not, in fact, been in Canada with him, I was surprised when more than one person I very much like and respect asked me when I was going to get my turn…you know, MY trip. I just told them that every day’s my turn, and went on. But it really, really bugged me and I couldn’t put my finger on why.
You know me—I carried this around in my head. I couldn’t get it out of my brain, the concept of “my turn.” I started noticing, when we’d spend time with friends and family, how taking turns seems to be a thing. Do you notice it? Maybe you should stop reading now.
It’s my turn to pick the movie/show.
You picked dinner yesterday.
It’s my turn to spend time with Mommy.
We’ll do what you want today, and tomorrow we’ll do what I want to do.
I could go on and on.
It was more than that, though—I started noticing attitudes. In the situations above, whoever WASN’T currently getting a turn suffered through the experience, totally checked out OR was actively angry/agitated/upset until it was their turn again.
Once I saw it, I couldn’t un-see it.
I know, I know…I’ve been walking around writing this for weeks in my head and THIS is all that comes out? Trust me, I’ve pulled a lot to preserve some important feelings and relationships. Here’s what I’d like to say, friends…when we take turns
doesn’t that mean, by default, we’re not happy until it’s our turn again?
I’ll leave that there. But it’s breaking my heart a little, y’all.