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Failure to communicate…

I’m not always a great communicator.  Don’t get me wrong, I always have a lot to say and I always say a lot but there is not always a whole lot of meaning to be derived from the words that come out of my mouth.  I think that’s why I am loving blogging, because I can always go back and read what I’ve written later and if it doesn’t make sense, I can edit it.  I wish I could do that with the spoken word as well.  Now I know what you are saying…Hobbit, you are saying, most people learn to think about what they say before they speak the words but anyone who knows the Hobbit knows that there is no gatekeeper on the mouth.  It endears me to some and ostracizes me from others but, as my boss is frequently heard saying, at least you never have to doubt what he’s thinking about!
I’ve heard stories about how Abe Lincoln, in his younger days, got into several fights and one duel (with pistols, which was interrupted) because of things that he said.  In later life, he learned to write out his words before speaking them and the story is that many drafts of letters were found in his desk after his death that showed his increasing constraint with each iteration.  I’m not sure why he kept the old versions but some of them were old enough to suggest that he made a regular habit of it.
Honest Abe was a great communicator

Honest Abe was a great communicator

Now you might want to know where the Hobbit is going with this here postie thing and why this seems to be important to him.  Over the past 3 days, I’ve had several conversations with my children that I don’t necessarily want to take back but I certainly wish I had handled better.  Chores were getting a little lax and with Mrs. Hobbit (AKA, that is Affectionately Known As, the Enforcer) off fighting the war for God and Country, Hobbit here had to put the hammer down.  Since Mrs. Hobbit and I tend to fight our battles a bit differently, the kids did not respond to my second and third requests in a manner which satified me that they understood who was in charge.

Having one teenager and one ’bout to be’ teenager, I know that they are hard-headed, stubborn, and sometimes, well let’s just say, unintelligent; but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be able to look one straight in the eye, ask them if they took care of the Hermit Crab, have them say yes, and not have to go to the Hermit Crab cage to see if they in fact did take care of the Hermit Crab.  Unfortunately, we’re not quite there yet! So, after much ‘communication’ with the young’uns, I believe they at least understand where the line is that they crossed and that if they cross it again, papa hobbit is going to have an aneurysm and make them care for his vegetable self for the rest of his life.  Those kinds of threats work so much better than corporal punishment I think.

Anyway, though it sounds like I’m placing all the blame on the kids, really I know where the blame lies.  It is my mothers fault, completely and utterly.  I can remember being about 14 or so and having a particularly ‘good’ day.  My mom looked me square in the eye and said…you know what’s coming don’t you…she said ‘One day, you are going to grow up and have children exactly like you!!!‘  So there you go, I have a son who has picked up all of my worst male habits and a daughter who has picked up ALL of my worst habits!

Okay, okay, I know where the comm problem is in our house and I would love to tell you that I’m working on it diligently.  To be honest though, I really only think about it late at night when I’m feeling guilty about how I reacted to something that happened that day and trying to goad myself into going to Confession as every good Catholic should do monthly (which makes me NOT a good Catholic lately).  Can’t we all just g ge get along??