While I was changing Matteas one morning(which took some time, as he blasted out of his diaper and required a bath) Jack was playing nicely at the table with his cars. Or so I thought. After I got Matteas dressed I checked on Jack to discover that he had found a cube of butter and used it to embellish his cars. I told him to load them all into the bathroom sink and wait for me to help him clean them. Getting impatient, he decided to use cold water and diaper wipes, which he loaded into the toilet as he was done with them. About ten of them.
This was about two weeks ago. Matteas had a weird night, and I got about four hours of sleep. When I put him down for his nap I got really drowsy and thought to myself: the door is locked, no candles are burning; whatever Jack does while I'm dozing, it's worth it.
I was mistaken.
I have yet to put the final coat of paint on the cabinets that go under the kitchen sink, leaving my cleaning supplies exposed(no one freak out, I don't keep any bleach products with the amonia ones). Jack proceeded to gather and empty almost every bottle, including one of Murphy's Oil Soap, Pine-Sol, and just to top it off, a bottle of Burt's Bee's Baby Oil(which is great stuff, but only if it's in your bath and not on your bathroom rug). He was also not wearing a diaper for some reason. It took hours of soaking in the tub to get all the soap out of the rug. I would have just thrown it away, but it was Karoly's.
This morning's escapade: a re-enactment of the bombing of Pearl Harbor, using flour instead of bombs. Lots of flour. I now feel more strongly than ever that it is a serious mistake to tile a kitchen floor. F***ing grout. Thank you God for diaper wipes. And Starbucks drive-throughs.
I still haven't cleaned out the baby swing. I'm feeling pretty frustrated right now over how
freaking messy motherhood is. Or childhood, rather. Jack is so lightning-fast when it comes to messes, by the time I clean up one he's made three more. I was beginning to feel that I might be able to entertain the possibility of starting a hobby or, more distantly, go back to school; I don't have a specific goal in mind, I'm just feeling like everything other than the mother part of me is beginning to atrophy. I realize that being a mom is deeply significant and wonderful and all that, but sometimes, most of the time, it's also really damn hard. And there are things I want aside from being a mom. Not instead, just additionally. I'm not disdaining motherhood; my desires are actually biblically based, like the woman in Proverbs 31 who somehow finds time to "seeketh wool and flax, buy fields and plant vineyards, maketh fine linen, clothe her household in garments of scarlet, layeth her hands to the spindle while holding a distaff and girdeth her loins with strength." I can't even girdeth my loins with pants most of the time. What I'd like to know is, where are the Proverbial Woman's children while she's doing all this planting and girding? Surely I say unto you, her children shall scatter flour to the four corners of her household and poop in their shoes; they shall smear their toys with butter and clog the plumbing with diaper wipes; in the midst of the chaos they shall use toilet water to wash the fireplace; they shall daily strip the couches of every cushion, and pee on the carpet almost hourly. Blessed are the mothers, for they sorely need it.
While I was changing Matteas one morning(which took some time, as he blasted out of his diaper and required a bath) Jack was playing nicely at the table with his cars. Or so I thought. After I got Matteas dressed I checked on Jack to discover that he had found a cube of butter and used it to embellish his cars. I told him to load them all into the bathroom sink and wait for me to help him clean them. Getting impatient, he decided to use cold water and diaper wipes, which he loaded into the toilet as he was done with them. About ten of them.
This was about two weeks ago. Matteas had a weird night, and I got about four hours of sleep. When I put him down for his nap I got really drowsy and thought to myself: the door is locked, no candles are burning; whatever Jack does while I'm dozing, it's worth it.
I was mistaken.
I have yet to put the final coat of paint on the cabinets that go under the kitchen sink, leaving my cleaning supplies exposed(no one freak out, I don't keep any bleach products with the amonia ones). Jack proceeded to gather and empty almost every bottle, including one of Murphy's Oil Soap, Pine-Sol, and just to top it off, a bottle of Burt's Bee's Baby Oil(which is great stuff, but only if it's in your bath and not on your bathroom rug). He was also not wearing a diaper for some reason. It took hours of soaking in the tub to get all the soap out of the rug. I would have just thrown it away, but it was Karoly's.
This morning's escapade: a re-enactment of the bombing of Pearl Harbor, using flour instead of bombs. Lots of flour. I now feel more strongly than ever that it is a serious mistake to tile a kitchen floor. F***ing grout. Thank you God for diaper wipes. And Starbucks drive-throughs.
I still haven't cleaned out the baby swing. I'm feeling pretty frustrated right now over how freaking messy motherhood is. Or childhood, rather. Jack is so lightning-fast when it comes to messes, by the time I clean up one he's made three more. I was beginning to feel that I might be able to entertain the possibility of starting a hobby or, more distantly, go back to school; I don't have a specific goal in mind, I'm just feeling like everything other than the mother part of me is beginning to atrophy. I realize that being a mom is deeply significant and wonderful and all that, but sometimes, most of the time, it's also really damn hard. And there are things I want aside from being a mom. Not instead, just additionally. I'm not disdaining motherhood; my desires are actually biblically based, like the woman in Proverbs 31 who somehow finds time to "seeketh wool and flax, buy fields and plant vineyards, maketh fine linen, clothe her household in garments of scarlet, layeth her hands to the spindle while holding a distaff and girdeth her loins with strength." I can't even girdeth my loins with pants most of the time. What I'd like to know is, where are the Proverbial Woman's children while she's doing all this planting and girding? Surely I say unto you, her children shall scatter flour to the four corners of her household and poop in their shoes; they shall smear their toys with butter and clog the plumbing with diaper wipes; in the midst of the chaos they shall use toilet water to wash the fireplace; they shall daily strip the couches of every cushion, and pee on the carpet almost hourly. Blessed are the mothers, for they sorely need it.
1 comment:
Cyril saw the post and said,
"The pictures look kind of funny. But poor Tirzah. She has to clean up a big mess".
There is some sympathy for you out there.
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