Utter Disaster....

..... is what happens when mommy finally catches up on Downton Abbey.




Not to mention the baby feels free to graze on crayon-laden carpets.

Thank goodness Season Two is over. Now back to life.

Muck Raking

I swept my kitchen on Saturday, y'all.



As in Saturday 48 hours ago, not Saturday 10 days ago. I've been thinking I will leave the pile there and maybe it will make an impression on the boys. They will see it and become so overwhelmed with remorse that they will promise never to make a mess again. Good idea? No, you're probably right. They would shuffle right through it unawares, and what doesn't get kicked back to where it was a few moments before, would probably end up in the baby's mouth.

Do you ever let something like a pile of dirt shape your thinking for an hour or two? Suddenly it mirrors all the things in your life that are unfinished, thankless, needing to be done again tomorrow. It signifies all the frustrations you have during the day with your naughty little boys who peel all the onion papers off 10 lbs of onions, shred the cotton off dozens of q-tips, stick stickers all over the furniture, and wipe boogers all over the walls. (sorry to be graphic, but it is cold season around here.)

Have you ever seen the movie Amelie, where the guy she wants to meet is late, and within 30 seconds, she has concocted a dreadful history in her head about what might have happened to him? I think he ended up in her imagination as an exiled sheep-herder in Afghanistan or something. My imagination went a little wild with that dirt pile tonight, and suddenly all the little problems and difficulties in my life became a looming mountain- perhaps in Afghanistan somewhere- who knows.
I knew in the back of my mind all of the reasons why I should be thankful for that pile, for the little onion-peeling hands that more often than not fill my life with gladness. But sometimes I have to remind myself not to be like the man in Pilgrims Progress who spent his days bent over, raking muck, while the joys of earth and heaven went by unheeded around him.
I really didn't mean to pontificate like this over my nightly sweepings, but jotting it all down on 'paper' helps ground me back in reality. And perhaps tomorrow I will joyfully help create the snowstorm made out of q-tip heads and wipe the runny noses before grubby fingers beat me to it. Just so long as they leave the onions alone.

Where there's a will.....

"Mommy, will you peel my orange for me?"

"Not right now Etienne, mommy's busy. And you know how to do it yourself."

"Yes, but I always squirt juice in my eye when I do it."

"Well, give me a minute and I can help you."

Apparently a minute was more than he could stand waiting for his orange, because I found him engaged in peeling it a short while later- with protection.




You can imagine the pride I felt in seeing this child of mine improvise a squirt shield out of my clear plastic quilting ruler. I raced for my camera to capture such an innovative moment. Move over Thomas Edison, here comes my boy.

Ah, the irony

"But mom, I dropped my ball in the mud and just needed to get it clean!"

(I also love that he avoided both door mats but nailed the bath mat and used the toilet to step on instead of the footstool right in front of him.)