Advertisements

Tag Archives: prayer

A Handful of Spaghetti and Other Toddler Delicacies

Sweet

Well, At Least She is Eating 

I wonder how much it would cost to get a drain installed in our kitchen floor?  I could probably justify a couple of benefits of having one but the primary reason is that more often than not, our little one needs to be hosed off before leaving the table after a meal.  She is learning to use utensils and it is great to hear her gurgle out an “I got it!” as she bites down on a fork load of food.  Let’s be honest though, she might as well be eating soup with a slotted spoon.  Last night we had spaghetti and we are perfectly content with robbing our second of the cute picture of spaghetti all over her head and face.  We let it happen with our first and there are just some things that you learn from aren’t worth repeating.

She was bibbed up and things started well as she managed to keep some cut up noodles on her spoon.  Flash to 15 seconds later and she is downing sauced up pasta by the handful.  The horror recedes from her mother’s eyes as we both realize that she is in fact eating and we know that utensils and cleanup are only battles but nourishment is the war.  We try to help a bit but accept the mess she is making.  That is, until our united family front begins to crack in weakness.  Our well-behaved 5-year-old makes the mistake of laughing at the little one and one little chuckle is all the encouragement our little ham needs before she attempts her best spaghetti juggling routine and delights in the laughter of her sibling.  Before long she has her parents laughing as well and she is relishing her role as the star of the show.  We manage to get a few more bites down her hatch between giggles and then flip a coin to see who gets bath duty and who gets to clean up the dinner massacre.

I got kitchen cleanup and asked myself what  CSI’s David Caruso would do?  After taking my sunglasses on and off a few times and squinting my eyes to survey the damage I went to work.  A roll of paper towels later we were finished and our freshly bathed kids still had a case of the giggles.  It may have been an epic mess but at least she was eating and even if you have to navigate nostril peas and hair dipped in yogurt, knowing your kid is fed is sweet.

Weak

My Greatest Fear Has Become the Rogue Sippy Cup 

Is there anything worse?  You find a sippy-cup under the couch or behind the toy-box and your prayer begins.  Dear Heavenly Father, please show me your grace and mercy and let this cup be full of water, and if it has to be full of milk, please give me a sign so I can throw it away when my wife isn’t looking so I don’t have to wash a white festering clump of rot out of this thing.  In Jesus name, amen.  You may start and end your prayer differently or address it to someone or something else but there is no mistake that in that moment we all hope for some kind of divine intervention.  You try to remember the last time you saw the cup in the active rotation and what was in it but it is no use, the princesses and the Dora’s and Minnie Mouse’s all run together you don’t have a clue.  You walk to the sink and play a version of parenthood roulette as you twist open the lid and pray for the best.

I used to think that finding a forgotten sippy-cup was the worst thing possible, until last week when our little one upped the ante of horror and disgust.  She walked into the living room holding a sippy-cup that neither of us had just given to her.  My wife and I exchanged glances and like a scene from a movie both lunged as the word NOOOOOOOOOOOO bellowed out of each of us.  Diving to save our little one, I batted the cup from her hand but it was too late.  The sip of septic gross combined with the scare of having her dad punch a cup millimeters away from her face may very well result in a hefty therapy bill one day.  Not sure if this one had juice of milk in it but the sour odor was already escaping the nozzle and the fruit flies swarming around it made the decision to throw it away an easy one.  Contrary to any opinions that may be forming, we are not unfit parents and go through lots of wipes and elbow grease  trying to maintain a suitable living environment for our little mess machines.  Cleaning a house with little kids in it is like tossing buckets of water over the side of a sinking boat.  No matter how fast you go or how much headway you make, you are still taking on water.  Most messes are all in a day’s work and just part of the gig but the rogue sippy-cup is totally weak.

Advertisements

If Time is Cyclical, at What Point does Late Become Early? (or: I wish I had posted this before Mothers Day)

Sweet

Say Hello to Your Mother for Me  

It would have been neat if I had put together some great touching blog post that would have made my wife and mom tear up and exclaim that my words were more precious to them than any gift they had ever received.  I guess in a perfect world those heartfelt words of adoration would have also populated paper and screen before Mother’s Day was over.  To be honest though, I was lucky that I wasn’t asking the clerk at 7-11 if they carried greeting cards on Saturday night.

What I would have written though, if I hadn’t spent 25 minutes Saturday night looking for scissors and scotch tape (because she is the only one that knows where we keep that stuff ) would have been a simple thank you.

I would have thanked the moms for rescuing their kids from dripping banana splits even if it did mean having to take her clothes off in the garage (and not in a good way).  I would have thanked moms for notes in school lunches and clean rooms when we got back from summer camp.  I would have also thanked them for remembering to get extra napkins and being the one that signs permission slips and makes sure our kid doesn’t show up at school dressed for pajama day when it is really hat day.

I try to do my fair share to create a solid foundation for our family but let’s be honest, if we are going for a house metaphor, mom is obviously the nails.  Mom’s are the heart, moms are the love.

I would also thank the moms for the prayers and the worries.  I didn’t see it as much as a kid because I was too busy being the source of said prayers and worries but I see it now.  That stuff matters, it matters a lot.

I would tell moms that while we seem pretty good at taking for granted all of the behind the scenes stuff they take care of, we know there is a lot and we are grateful that they are always behind us picking up what slipped from our carry and reminding us to watch our step.

I don’t know if it is the hardest job in the world but I do know that it is the most important.  Yep, if I had made the time, I would have written those things and then I would have also told them that I loved them.  I would thank them for letting me live wrapped up in their love, and offer mine in return.

I should have written those things and a bunch of other things to tell moms how special they are.  I would have also thanked moms for staying and waiting even when I was running late.  Even if it was a whole day late.

This blog thing I started a few months ago wouldn’t be very complete if I missed the chance to mention that moms are totally sweet.

(One more, I would have also thanked them for suggesting I start writing a blog and then reading and laughing and telling me good job in a way that only a wife/mom can do)

Happy Mother’s Day (early or late, you decide)

 

Weak

Breakfast in Bed with a Side Order of Terror  

It really is a cute idea and I can remember being excited as a kid helping dad and sister make breakfast in bed while mom pretended she didn’t hear us dropping stuff and fighting in order to keep the surprise alive.

Lets be honest though, I think mothers and fathers can agree that breakfast in bed is simply way more trouble than it is worth.  Especially since you can now google image a luxurious Eggs Benedict with fresh-cut fruit and steaming hot coffee and paste it right into your Facebook status.  (At least I assume doing something like that would be easy.)  Breakfast in bed means a couple of things.  First off, mom or dad is a prisoner in the bedroom until the big reveal.  Also, nobody ever writes: congratulations on getting to change the sheets tonight before bed because of all the crumbs and spills, on the inside of a card.  Lastly, kids aren’t good at cooking so you let them help with the creative stuff like cards and flowers while you oversee the mechanics of toast burning.

I do love the Americana of the whole thing though, and the big reveal is certainly fun.  Sometimes though, even in your best dad effort to create a meal and presentation worthy of Pinterest with fresh-cut flowers from the backyard and everything, you don’t notice the spider.  Yes, that happened.   That’s right, the flowers came from outside.  Guess what also lives outside?  Ding Ding, spiders!  Spiders give my wife a major case of the heebie jeebies, so you can only imagine how overjoyed she was to make her discovery while she was holding a cup of hot coffee and her legs were pinned down under a tray of breakfast complete with crystal vase full of flowers and water.  Fun times right there.

She may have done a good job pretending she had no idea what we were up to but in the end we got to see the difference between fake surprise and real surprise.

Spiders are totally weak.

 

 


%d bloggers like this: