I just love do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do moments when I’m trying to teach my children how to do something. Sadly, they happen often so I’m never going to win that mother-of-the-year award.

My children have been weeding my flower beds for years. In fact, my youngest will tell you nobody pulls weeds better than him, though you’ll have to ignore the eye rolls of my other two kids every time they hear that statement. I do a much better job of hiding my eye rolls.

Anyway, the time had come to weed and thin my climbing roses. I’ve never had my children do this chore. The roses growing up the fence are New Dawns. Though their fragrance is divine, when fully grown, their thorns can pierce even the thickest glove so I’ve always opted to take care of this section of garden myself. However, this year, I decided it was time to give them a tutorial on the process.

The first thing I point out was the sharp thorns. “Be careful how you handle these, especially the dead vines we’re cutting out, those thorns are often even sharper than the living ones.”

Not even a minute later I put my hand down, without looking, to use my full weight to move to the next section of roses. Three large thorns from the dead vine I’d just cut out went right through my gloves and pierced my palm. They went so deep the vine remained attached to me even after I lifted my hand. What else could I say as I cringed in pain but, “See, guys, this is what you don’t want to do.”

Ugh, I hate pain, but I just can’t seem to avoid it.