A Beautifully Messy Moment

The theme for MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) this year is "A Beautiful Mess: Embracing Your Story." And my particular MOPS group gives a prize each month to the mom with the best messy story. Maybe I'll win with this one!:

So I'm getting the twins ready for bed tonight in their room, like we do every night, and halfway through getting all the layers of cold-weather pj's on, Evelyn choked, coughed, and then threw up a decent portion of smoothie and white bean chili from supper. On the carpet, herself, the twin breastfeeding pillow that's only been used as a giant donut to jump on and sit in (and which I was hoping to sell, oh well), and into my cupped hands. I ran toward the bathroom, struggling to turn the doorknob on the closed door with a handful of vomit (sorry, but you asked for a messy story), and yelling for Steve to come upstairs. Which he did in lightening speed, since we used to do this all the time when Annelise was spitting up large portions regularly. With a roll of paper towels of course.

He let all the kids jump on the guest bed in Cora's room while I cleaned up the carpet in the other room. We have this special kit that takes any stain out, but that carpet may still be green in the morning and require another round. Finally I went into the room full of jumping, squealing little girls and a watchful daddy looking on, making sure no one fell off the bed. I finished getting them dressed and they played a little more. Then I offhand said to Steve, "Could you go get the sleep sacks and humidifier....ahhhh!!! ahhhh!!! the humidifier..." We were both thinking the same thing as he raced lightening speed back down the stairs.

You see, last winter when we had to fill up a million humidifiers every night for the kids' rooms (at a time when that was the last thing we had time for), Steve had the brilliant idea to rig up a hose that attached to the spigot on the fridge (where we get filtered water) and ran down into the humidifier basin, and that way it was hands-free and you could, say, do the dishes while it filled up, keeping an eye on it all the while lest it overflow. This really was brilliant, and sure beat standing at our slow fridge spigot, filling up glass after glass, and pouring each gingerly into the humidifier, usually spilling some.

Of course right before Evie had spit up, I had asked him to fill up the humidifier for her room, and of course he left the water running when he lighteninged upstairs (with little lightening at his heels).

My fears were confirmed as Annelise called up the stairs, "There's a lake in the kitchen."

Daddy mopped it up while Mommy put both twins to bed. When I came down, he was in the basement. A bad sign. Sure enough the lake had replicated itself on the floor below, but much smaller thankfully. When I asked if he'd pulled out the fridge yet, he said no. Oh good, I said, because months ago a bottle of wine rolled off the top of the fridge and got stuck behind it. And that's when God's mercy was impressed upon me. One mess averted, at least! That would have been bad.

We got all the snacks and recipes and spices racks off the top of the fridge and I climbed on top (that was fun! after dusting it of course) and retrieved the bottle of wine...before we pulled the fridge out. It was pretty nasty under the fridge too (think vitamins that had rolled under and goodness knows what else, soaked), and probably needed to be cleaned out anyway. So now we have a mopped kitchen floor and a clean fridge, top and bottom, and one more good story to tell. I think we'll have another laugh, another sigh, and then pour ourselves a glass of wine! (if only we drank...so, filtered water?)

We're still alive...amazing!

Perhaps the biggest blessing in disguise in dealing with sickness is that it recalibrates your gratefulness gauge. Once the kiddos start to get even the tiniest bit better, and you can see the light at the end of the tunnel (a speck, now bigger), your mourning turns to dancing. Wow, I'm wiping noses every six minutes now instead of every five. Think of how much extra time I'll have when these little noses finally dry up (right!). Wow, we might actually get to emerge from the house in a few days, and drive somewhere! If the car still starts. Wow, I might get to have a kid-less conversation with my husband some evening in the near future, because he might start going to bed a little later than 8:30 (only to lie there for hours because his biological clock is all messed up, poor nocturnal sickie-soothing hero of mine). Wait, biological clock, is that the right term? LOL. Help me somebody, my brainwaves are flat-lining.

Anyway, the cycle with sickness in my experience seems to be firstly, what, they're sick again? and of course on the one week/weekend we had a bunch of fun things planned; secondly, man, these poor sweet little bodies are really suffering, I'll do anything to help them; and thirdly, huh, (don't get your hopes up but) they seem to be getting better. Maybe I can come up for air just a little and...oh wow, the earth is still spinning. The calendar is still clipping along (with parental anniversaries looming, eek). And if I run to catch up, maybe I can jump back on the event merry-go-round...well, it will have to slow down a little first.

Guess we'll lose the germies in a few days. But hopefully not the gratefulness germ. (I think this is cheesy but I'm not sure because my cheesy gauge has not been recalibrated yet. I'll need a little more sleep for that first.)

...

Body clock! Popped into my head unsolicited at 5:00 am this morning as I was trying to go back to sleep. Early morning rendezvous with teething babies are good for something (besides snuggling). I don't trust myself to comment on the biological clock right now.

Cora the Climber

Three bloggable memories of today:

Annelise emerged from her room time this afternoon in a big bear hug with numerous stuffed animals, and made it down the stairs with them amid my emphatic whispers (twins sleeping) of caution. "I brought down all my animals to share them with my baby sisters" she proudly announced. I was touched.

We had just come in from outside and I was getting supper ready in the kitchen. I heard little hands on the piano keys, banging away, and knew it was only the twins as Annelise was in the family room. Then the banging intensified and my mom-brain (the part that notices when things are "too quiet" or in this case, too loud) wondered how four little hands were hitting that many keys. I walked into the living room and Cora the Climber (egged on by Evelyn the Climber, of course) was on her hands and knees...up ON TOP of the keyboard! Mom instinct took over and I got her down as soon as I could, but immediately after wished I'd run for the camera first. I tucked the piano bench farther under the piano as a preventative measure, and if they figure out how to pull it out and use it as a step stool again...I'll know they're ready for lessons!

I put Annelise to bed tonight because she wanted me to and I saw the pile of dishes still to be done. After we read her Bible story about "We love because He first loved us" and her Berenstain bears story, I asked if she wanted to pray and as usual, she didn't. So I prayed and included, "Dear Lord, help Annelise to love You with all her heart." Immediately she broke in with, "I do love...God. I love You, God." Because He first loved us.

Little fingers, little mouths, big laughter

I've GOT to start writing this stuff down. I don't want to lose anything of these precious little years. I think I'll remember everything, but I've already forgotten so much. Lord, I hope You keep the heavenly camcorder rolling (with some merciful editings along the way)!

Memories from the day, as I wind down for bedtime (usually I'm winding up to get everything done, but that's another story):

The twins' little fingers picking the little basil strips off their TBM salad tonight at supper to eat the cheese.

Annelise, excited for weeks about her first dentist appointment, announcing to our friends at lunch that she was going to the dentist today, asking in the waiting room over and over again when they were going to call us back...and then clamming up in the chair and requiring coaxing and promise of treats for the dentist to slide his instruments into her mouth and get in a poke here, a brush there. Poor Dental Ben.

Laughter from the twins as I "danced" around the house with one on each hip. What a workout!

Signs of growing up

This morning I came downstairs just after 8:00 to be greeted by a little girl, a big smile, a "good morning, Mommy," and a scribble on a piece of paper. She's been getting out of bed by herself in the morning, but usually to say "get up, Daddy" in a half whisper right in his face (how did I know the side of the bed farthest from the door would be the right one to choose?!). Once she came downstairs and turned on the TV by herself, but the Roku was set on Steve's tech channel so she came up to ask for help finding Mr Rodgers, Little Bear, Mickey, or Dora, whichever it was that morning. But I think this is the first time she'd come downstairs and drawn a picture. Who knows how long she was down here. (And I don't even care since both Steve and I got to sleep in!)

This evening, I was upstairs giving the twins a bath and had asked Steve to put a new trash bag in their diaper pail. He had forgotten to bring one up, and I was asking him about it again. Next thing we know, a little girl is coming back up the stairs with a white drawstring Costco trash bag in her hands. She had simply overheard us and been the "helper" that she really is so good at being. I think she may have Steve's gift of service. I told her that was "initiative," so maybe she'll greet me tomorrow morning with a new vocabulary word...and have dusted and vacuumed the house! Or not. Maybe in a few years.

You Beautiful Witch

My mommy-brain is struggling to recall a story that happened a couple of weeks ago, but I think it's good enough to record (by good enough I mean it might elicit a chuckle and a couple of smiles, which is good enough for me). It had me guffawing to myself as I lay awake in the middle of the night, which means it's definitely blog worthy. Best of all, this story may get me blogging again after (see date on previous post) two whole years, since I finally have an extra hour in my day as the twins are going to bed earlier. TWINS??!! you say. Yes, but that's another story.

What truly got me writing again, however (because there's always the reason and then the real reason, the intellectual motivation and then the one or two plucks to your hidden emotional strings that vibrate much longer and more galvanizingly than any prodding of the mind can do), was a compliment to my writing by a kind and generous-souled friend who received my annual Christmas email (in March of course). The other pluck was my Dad's first blog, at least that I've ever read, which I just perused (and now it's real, right Daddy?) and thoroughly enjoyed and said to myself, why doesn't he write more? Why has it taken him so long? Um...er...eek. Guess I'd better get writing too.

So, the story. Every week (that we aren't sick, ugh) a friend from church, a dear lady, "Miss Sally" to Annelise our three-year-old, comes over to babysit for the twins while I take said three-year-old grocery shopping. She also cleans whatever most needs cleaning in our house. Yes, now that the cat's out of the bag I'll be the envy of half the town (of course the "other half" has a nanny or cleaning service). All this just for having twins! Anyway, she is one of those motherly women who could lull me to sleep on the spot (well, I am incredibly sleep deprived, but still) with her calm tone and I'll-take-care-of-you demeanor. She is also on the more conservative side, in a moral vs political (though she is that too) sense. I say this to set the scene for my story.

As she was leaving one day, after folding our laundry and scrubbing our kitchen floor (this is love!), I told Annelise to say good-bye to Miss Sally. Can you hear it coming, the where-one-earth-did-that-come-from out of a toddler's mouth? "Good-bye, you beautiful witch!" What??!! I'm proud to say that my composure faltered only for a moment when my tone dipped from "Where did you..." and back to a normal "...hear that?" with the "that" a little too high-pitched. "On Little Bear." Little Bear? The sweetest cleanest cartoon on the planet, and to the sweetest cleanest lady we know? "Oh, well, you'll have to show me that part...." At which point Miss Sally, who had taken it all very well I must say, said they knew Little Bear too (except I think she meant a book series by that name that I vaguely remember from childhood--oh I need to find that at the library!--and not the cartoon) and wasn't it crazy how kids see things from a different perspective than we do, and went on to elaborate til I was assured that she was not offended. (Women have their own secondary language in these things, running underneath the things we actually say.)

That evening I repeated the story to Steve. He said, "Oh yeah, it's on Little Bear. On 'Prince Little Bear.' Little Bear says it to Hen. He's pretending to be the prince in the story, and makes Hen be the witch." (Guess who also watches Little Bear around here, inadvertently of course. Ahem.) And a day or two later I saw the scene of such import myself. Hen doesn't want to be the witch, but Little Bear says she can be a beautiful witch and then says in a cheery, sing-song voice as he walks away, "Good-bye, you beautiful witch." Ha, repeated verbatim by our resident Sponge. Eek, what else is she soaking up? Hopefully good stuff.

I paused the Roku right there, and we had a little talk. Witches are bad ladies, Little Bear and Hen were just pretending, and we don't call anyone a witch. (Least of all Miss Sally!) Later she mentioned "witch" again so I said we weren't going to watch that episode until she could stop fixating on that tiny little part. I think she stopped. But why did she start in the first place?? The mind of a child, who can plumb the depths?

All in all, it gave me something to laugh at into the bedclothes when I couldn't sleep for a too-large chunk of the night (which is no laughing matter when sleep is as precious as it is around here), and reminded me that she really is listening. To EVERYthing. Even when she does't seem to be. Guess I should try never to act like a witch. Even a beautiful one.