The Wimpiness Trap

Published 11/03/2010 |

I have decided that whenever I am feeling ‘unappreciated’, I need to let my feelings be known, calmly, and maturely.

Yes, well… my version of calmly and maturely needs some work. I would like to be able to tell you this was merely my impersonation of a teenager in the throes of a hormonal surge of sarcasm but, alas…

As I was saying…

…alas, I admit, every once in a while, I digress into a whiny, wimpy, mess. I guess this is one of those moments.

Remember, Peeps, this is a judgment-free zone.

Oh, what the heck, go ahead and judge away…

On a scale of one to pi, with one being ‘pathetic’ and pi being ‘la-hoo-za-her‘, how would you rank my wimpiness today? Go ahead, be brutally honest.

I concede that if I haven’t yet had my high octane Starbucks half-caff-decaff-naff-laff, I’m almost always pushin’ pi.

(You may feel that pi ought to go between the numbers 3 and 4, however I believe it belongs at the highest end of the scale because it is an irrational number.)

I know exactly when things begin to fall apart for me. When members of The Family Corp don’t do their jobs.

Let’s flip that. I know better than that.

When I don’t do my job running The Corp.

When I don’t do my job, it sets everyone else up for failure. And it sets me up for The Wimpiness Trap, which I believe would make an excellent sequel to The Happiness Trap, which is all about taking responsibility for your own happiness. The flip-side is to recognize and take responsibility for being wimpy.

Because wimps are wusses.

Whenever I find myself in wimp mode, I notice:

a. The house gets messy

b. My kids get cranky

c. My butt looks bigger (go figure!)

In an effort to avoid The Wimpiness Trap, I run our family like a 501 c 3 corporation.

I am the CEO, COO, CFO and sometimes, the CWO. You know exactly what the last one stands for.

The Children of The Corp have assigned themselves high-level positions on the Board of Directors: Grumpy, Sleepy, Happy, and Bashful. You may recall, from a previous rant, that my children are from HD209458b, a rogue planet outside our solar system about 150 light-years from Earth in the constellation Pegasus. The key descriptive word for this planet is rogue. My resident aliens pride themselves in being non-conforming. They make promises they don’t keep. And they make no sense, even when they graduate Magna Cum Laude.

Another high-level position is held by Chewy, our so-called dog. Part Wookiee, part Grizzly Bear, he’s always positioning himself to become Pack Leader. Don’t be fooled by his 10-pound stature.

He will eat you.

Thus…

It comes as no surprise–correction– it shocks the living daylights out of me whenever someone in The Corp tries to meddle with the corporate bylaws, which are stained with tears (mine), coffee, spaghetti sauce and Mighty Dog.

Hence…

In order to attract attention to myself, I have called a meeting of the corporate members for this weekend. I have sent each of them copies of the agenda which includes the following items:

1. Charitable Donations (it doesn’t count to give away things you don’t need anymore)

2. Dirty Laundry (I can’t decide whether to reveal to them how it miraculously gets washed and returned to their rooms all fresh and clean–don’t want to ruin a good magic trick)

3. Food/Cooking (would it be okay if I cooked dinner on Tuesdays instead of Thursdays?)

4. The Dog (can’t anyone else tell he needs a bath?)

5. Other Business (I have a feeling Four will request that an item called ‘Things I’d Like For Christmas’ be added to the agenda. Two has suggested we discuss what he calls ‘Unlimited Funding of Miscellaneous College Expenses’. Three has submitted a question for consideration: Am I old enough to have my own credit card? And One wants to know if she can “borrow” my favorite handbag.)

How about no, no, no and NO!

And finally, the GP (did I not mention that Thurston’s title is Grand Poobah, which he thinks, like Chewy, trumps CEO) has proposed an item for discussion called ‘Poor Daddy’, during which, I’m certain, we’ll toss around ideas on the various ways to show him a little appreciation around here (insert eye roll here–hold for 3 seconds).

Get in line, Thursty. This is my meeting.

Note to self: Don’t forget to wear The Helmet.