A Mother’s Life
Remember when. . .
January 25, 2006
Tucking Charleigh into bed, pulling the pastel striped sheets up over her shoulders I appreciate the sweet moment of another day coming to an end. All is well in the house, only 8pm and I’ve got two kids in the tub and one squeeky clean brown haired girl already half asleep. With my husband in OKC I decided to put the kids to bed early and spend the remainder of the evening in quite aloneness. The aloneness that mommies rarely get. I’ve looked forward to this all day!
My plans of peace are shattered as a bubble covered 3 year old enters the room.
“Hurry! My Brother Bleed, My Brother Bleed” he yells before taking off down the hall. Following the soggy footprints I find Kaleb on the bath mat dressed in bubbles. He has a hand towel covering his foot, I lift it to see the damage. The amount of blood covering his foot nearly turns this story into another puking post but I managed to maintain composure a well as intestinal fortitude. Having recently moved all our belongings from one address to another I am still not sure where the bandages are located. I search.
While searching for first aid supplies the phone rings: A friends wants to rant. Go ahead I say, “Kaleb’s bleeding but I can still listen”. I continue to search for a band aid . Not bothered a bit by the injury Kaleb instead keeps yelling at his siblings to get out of the bathroom. I finally notice they’ve been taunting him about complete lack of clothing. Poor kid, I get him a towel to cover up. I order Charleigh back to bed and Joshua to get some clothes on. They completely ignore me and continue to torment him so I get up to deal with the wild children. Running away from his mother Joshua turns to yell out one last “HA HA” when he smacks head first into the wall.
A screaming spectacle ensues. You know the kind. Where the scream enters one ear then bangs around in your head till your eyes POP right out of the sockets thus causing your left eye to twitch for the next half hour.
“My head, My head, I broke my Head” I rush to comfort the smallest boy who happens to be as bare as the brother he was teasing.
Then enters Charleigh. Sobbing. What could possibly be wrong I ask.
“My playdough only has two days to live!” WHAT?!? “I lost the jar for my play dough”she explains “and now it only has two days to live!” She dramatically falls to the floor in despair holding her play dough to her heart.
“Mom I’m still bleeding”
“My head is broken”
“My Play dough is dying”
“AAAArrrrrrrrggghhhh”
(All the while still on the phone)
Fast Forward 1 hour and eleven minutes.
A band-aid brought over from Grandma, a kiss on the head, and a plastic bag, all problems solved.
Well. . . then there was the addition of Joshua tormenting his brother by throwing all prized possessions from the top bunk, and Charleigh’s emergency bath she had to have which we won’t discuss. A bajillion cries for one last drink of water and one “Oops, I forgot to do my homework”.
With everyone in bed, a crumpled remnant of my sanity returns. I close my eyes and thank God for the 3 children he has given me and then I offer double thanks that they are finally asleep!
Friday, 15. February 2008
I hear ya loud and clear sister. Same game, different players at this house.
Tuesday, 19. February 2008
I remember that night quite clearly. I was the one ranting about something on the phone. I probably never laughed so hard as when Charleigh came in with her drama.
Tuesday, 19. February 2008
Wasn’t I the one on the phone? If not I remember it like I was. I know I was on the phone with you when you discovered that Joshua had painted the couch with nail polish.
Tuesday, 19. February 2008
You were definately the one on the phone. Believe it or not I still remember what you were ranting about. I won’t share it here though.