NO MORE POPCICLES!
My daughter is home sick this week with RSV, and so we have been confined to our home. Needless to say, it has been a hard week to get anything done, and today was no exception. I thought I would share a bit of my morning as a type of therapy to myself- trying to help me see the “funny” in my life. Someday I will be able to afford a real counselor to help me walk through the joys and stressors in my life, but until then, I must resort to my own measures – blogging.
This morning, after my husband and other three children left the house, I took a quick scan of what was happening in my home.
KITCHEN – dishes from last nights dinner and this mornings hurried breakfast . . . I’ll get right on that.
LAUNDRY ROOM – oh about 6 loads of laundry. . . that shouldn’t take too long, sick! why must the kitty litter box be directly below the dryer door?!
BATHROOMS – clothes from shower, trash needs emptied, shower definately needs scrubbed again . . . SH–! Adah got into my makeup again.
BEDROOMS – beds need made, toys and clothes need to be put away. . . seriously, am I the only one that likes a clean bedroom?
My little tour of the house brought me back to the laundry room where two laundry basekts of socks and towels stared at me pleading to be folded, the legos strewn across the floor were screaming at me to pick them up before they got crushed under someones toes, and two boxes of junk (which somehow foudn their way to our house from yesterdays auction) looked just as lost as I did, and I thought myself, “NOT TODAY.”
So I did what my the best of moms do, and I put my kids in front of Dora the Explorer and I went back to bed.
Well, that band-aid of a solution didn’t work for very long, and pretty soon, my two year old, whom is being potty trained comes to me with the jar of Mentholatum Ointment – (it had been left out from the night before when it was being used to help soothe my older daugher from her croupy cough.) Anyway, my sweet Adah brought me the jar, opened. I looked at her, and could tell right away, that she had used it – as a diaper cream – all over her bottom and girlie parts. I could also tell that she wasn’t quite sure how to handle the sensation she was having.
Bath time came early.From here, I decided it was best to get up and get moving.
I moved the kids, dressed in their underwear to their bedroom to play, and I went to work. They did great. I could tell they were adding to the already messy house we were living in, but I just kep saying to myself – one more picture. I can do one more picture.
As I was serving up leftover pizza to my sweet children, I noticed a strong cinnamon smell . I couldn’t place my finger on where it was coming from, so I continued to eat and make happy conversation on colors and letters and animals with my kids. The cinnamon smell persisted, though, and while trying hard to pay attention to my four year old tell me what kind of popcicle he wanted for dessert, I glaced over to my spice shelves.
THEY WERE EMPTY.
“Where are my spices?” I asked my children. These are the looks I got from them.
I repeated my question. “Where are ALLL of my spices?” (dragging out ALLLLLL so that they would understand how serious I was.)
With one little my finger, my son pointed toward the window.Yes, those are my bay leaves. . . and the strong cinnamon smell.Yes, that is the paprika, and nutmeg, and curry powder. Yes, that is the cornstarch, and baking powder, and cocoa. Yes, those are all my spices on the ground, and their empty containers laying next to them.
NO MORE POPCICLES! was all I could say.
As, I sit here and realize I only have two minutes left of therapy, I feel like I should be wrapping up my session. What did I learn today? I think I have reminded myself what kind of person I want to be. I want to be a person who laughs. I want to be a person who loves. I want to be a person who can be trusted. I want to love my kids. I want to laugh with my kids. I want them to trust me. I want to be a good mom. So, I think we will get dressed, eat a popcicle, and go clean up the yard.
So, it is now just one o’clock, and I think the rest of the day is housework and popcicles.
I hope you too can enjoy a popcicle today, too. It makes all of life just a bit more wonderful.
These last three pictures were added later to show the damage done while I was in my private counseling session. Guess there won’t be too many more of those while the kids are at home . . . now to the popcicles.
can you see here, that my son also thought he needed to cut his own hair – all in a good morning – here at the Engle house. . . .