How Did Mommy Do?

Guess what?  My kids aren’t grounded from movies anymore!  I should be hopping up and down, you know.  I should be lining up all of the movies we get to watch today.  But my daughter -and this is totally classic -blew my expectations out of the water.

See, I EXPECTED her to be absolutely ROOTED to the television when I let her watch one movie during rest time.  Before you judge me (which I’m pretty sure you’re not) listen to my story.

Tuesday night, a family friend called and asked if I’d be available to watch her kids (ages 6 and 4) the next day while she worked.  My schedule is open! I said.  I woke up Wednesday morning to a clean house (thanks to my ratted petticoat), but I had one concern: how do you entertain a six year old boy when the only tricks you have up your sleeve involve petticoats?  So I called in reinforcements: my cousin -nearly five years old -Seth.  Just before Seth arrived, my cell phone’s calendar reminded me that I had offered to watch my friend’s children that morning.  I didn’t cancel because her son was just the right age to entertain the 6 year old boy and her daughter was just the right age to play with my daughter.

We planted all manner of seeds in egg cartons (carrots, beets, basil, squash, peas!), and then the kids -all seven of them -played.  You know what’s great about having seven well behaved children play at your house?  It’s simple and easy and cute.  I did have to stop a few squabbles, but no full-on fights.

And here’s lunch:
I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was wearing out. You know how it is -when you’re smack dab in the middle of something, you’re all go! go! go! But when you’re finished and you’re left to a plush couch… you’re powerless.
So I popped a movie in, and what happened next is what blew my expectations out of the water. She was supposed to be GLUED to the screen! She was supposed to sit on her back side, ne’er again to move!
She watched the first ten minutes. Maybe. Then she was over it.
I didn’t mind too much, really. I was impressed with her. A girl who rarely goes a day without a flick was totting along, completely happy to have her movies taken away. She’s like one of those addicts who says, “I can quit whenever I want to,” as they flip their hair and flick the end of the ciggy. EXCEPT SHE CAN.
That afternoon, I set to cleaning my house. The kids I’d had during the day were so well behaved that they cleaned up their own messes, and all I had to do was clean up mine. When I was done, I got everything out for the mutual project I was doing with my Beehives.
That’s right! I traded in 7 little kids for 7 older kids (one ended up not showing up)! A few hours before, during the lunchtime rush, my husband popped in to say he wasn’t coming home for dinner.

I need to know: Am I the only wife in the universe who loves to hear that? Not coming home for dinner, babe? Aw, sad. I’ll miss you. *peck* You’re wonderful for working so hard…
Then I turn around and pour out bowls of cold cereal and enjoy being praised as the Best Mommy in Town. Also, I take my make-up off. ALSO I put my sweats on.

Our craft went well, just so you know. We covered three-ring binders in a fabric of their choice and filled them with page protectors and file labels. Now they have their own little cookbooks! I can’t wait to start filling them with recipes.

I mean the books. Not the girls. Although maybe in this case it doesn’t matter.

(the little girl in the front row all the way to the left wants you to know that isn’t her REAL smile.)

After the project was done and I had picked my kids up from the sitter, I was pretty much DONE. I put the kids through their bedtime routine and then I put them in bed. They didn’t want to go so… I CAVED AGAIN. This time I won’t blame you for judging me.
They wanted Mary Poppins.
I popped it into their player and ran off to change into my PJs. I came back and heard the music for the main menu playing. I was going to press play and I would have had they not BOTH been fast asleep.

My expectations? Blown out of the water.
So to answer my own question: how did I do with the movie grounding? Shoddy. Terrible.
How did my grounded daughter do? She passed with flying colors. And she MIGHT have even reminded her mother twice yesterday that she shouldn’t be watching movies because she was grounded. Bad mommy. But learning from our children is a given, right?

Take yesterday, for instance:
PLEASE stop reading here if you have a weak stomach when it comes to any potty training issues.

The boy insists on potty training. He isn’t very good at it, mind you, but he refuses to wear a diaper. Did you know that when it comes to smelling, mothers of young children have superhuman powers? I can smell bleach from a mile away.
I can smell poop from five miles away. When I caught a faint whiff of poo, I ran to find the source.

And there he was. Absolutely fraught with anxiety. He needed help but he couldn’t stand the thought of asking because he was embarrassed. He’d tried to take care of the problem himself so I wouldn’t find out, but because he’s two… he just couldn’t. In the end we got him squeaky clean, but it got me thinking about how sometimes I find myself in a mess and try to clean my own way out. But I can’t.
Forgive this fairly AWFUL comparison, won’t you? My college roommates adapted themselves to my weird gospel comparisons (“Have you ever noticed how much the church is like a fully-grown fetus?”).
But really! Seeing my son there, trying in vain to clean up the mess he’d made and only succeeding it making it worse reminded me that when it comes to wiping the slate clean (pun intended), we can’t do it alone. The hard part is asking for help. Whether it’s because you’re embarrassed or scared of getting in trouble, no amount of negative emotions can compare to what you’ll feel when the weight is lifted off your shoulders. To have someone come in and clean up the mess you made is a humbling experience that you’ll always looks back on with gratitude. It’s also pretty good at making you NEVER EVER want to get that messy again. I’m hoping that’s how my son feels, anyway. No offense to my vigilant potty trainer, but that was nashty.

And so, if you’ve read this far without gagging, bravo. And I’m sorry to have written about potty training in detail. It goes against a rule of mine, but I felt this time that I should share.
I hope you’re not eating breakfast right now…

One last story: while we were planting seeds in egg cartons, the boys all asked me what I had in the bag next to me.

“Is it dirt?” They asked.
“No,” I said, “It’s potting soil.”
They all nearly busted their guts laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“YOU SAID POTTY!” They cried.
“I said POTT-EEN-G. Like… for a POT.”
“Oh…” they kind of hunkered down.
“I didn’t say POTTY,” I continued. Then I looked them in the eyes and said, “But now I did.”
And the laughs continued.
Oh, boys… I love them.