The MOPS convention was awesome, and I am so thankful to our families for helping out with the kids since Allen was working! I went to Florida with four MOPS friends and I came back newly inspired to be a better mama, to dig into my Bible more often, and to share ideas with our MOPS group. It was a fun and educational experience, and its almost always nice to spend a weekend with girlfriends.
When I got home, I had more patience than I knew I had. . . on the first day. The kids were cranky, but I didn't catch it from them. I just loved them and did my best with the situations I was presented. I had to get some laundry and housework done, and the kids were content to watch a few cartoons. Ben missed his sister this weekend since they were at different grandparents' homes. It warmed my heart to see this as they were being couch tater-tots!
The second started out pretty well, too, so I was really excited that I was refreshed by the trip. After I checked that the kids were asleep at naptime, I had some precious quiet time to myself. I sat at the kitchen table and began writing stories about my granddad. After awhile Maddie joined me in the kitchen and we had some nice mama-daughter time with Polly Pocket dolls. I had a hunch that I should check on the "napping" boys, so I went upstairs. I was horrified at what I found.
If you are wondering if I pay attention to my children, don't ask me to my face (you will likely not survive.) I check on them about every 5-minutes during the day since they are loud and they play hard. I have to make sure they aren't actually climbing walls, or dressers, or windows. I have to make sure they aren't sword fighting holes into the walls. I have to make sure they aren't finding ways of burning the house down. When they are awake, I am constantly checking on them as I go about doing the rest of the tasks to run the house. So the few minutes that their blond heads are on pillows, their angelic lashes are tight against their cheeks, and their breaths slow as they slumber, I sit down. I take a break. Sometimes I read a book, sometimes I fold laundry, sometimes I snooze, too. And sometimes, . . . .I'm clueless about the disaster that is in the works. The mess you see was made by Will, Ben, and Jon as Maddie and I were playing. They decimated a mattress!
dec·i·mate (ds-mt) tr.v. dec·i·mat·ed, dec·i·mat·ing, dec·i·mates
1. To destroy or kill a large part of (a group). 2. Usage Problema. To inflict great destruction or damage on: The fawns decimated my rose bushes.b. To reduce markedly in amount: a profligate heir who decimated his trust fund.3. To select by lot and kill one in every ten of.
They emptied the closet, dumped two or three buckets of out-of-season clothing, tore open and flug eight (EIGHT?!?) packages of baby wipes, they took apart Will's baby book and newspapers from the day he was born. They climbed to the top of the closet and took down some of my old dolls, blankets, and extra parts of the window blinds. As for that crib mattress . . . the vinyl cover was shredded into little pieces, the foam padding was shredded, and I discovered (as did they) that there is a layer of Saran-wrap-like plastic all around the mattress under the foam. I found the remains of the mattress being jumped on -- did you know that the springs are covered in a brown fiber that looks a lot like coconut fibers? See, I had this notion that I would never, NEVER, see the inside of a mattress except in a mattress shop with the little "sample" they have to show you the construction.
I was mad, but somehow I kept it all together again (like in the last story about the diaper cream.) I told the three boys they would clean up the mess and I went to get a trash bag -- a BIG trash bag. I calmly left them to take care of it, and they got nervous. I have discovered the calm-Mama can be a whole lot scarier than the one who yells. I did end up helping them just to make sure the things I wanted didn't end up in the trash, and an hour later the mess was cleaned up. Since I had planned on making dinner in that lost hour, the boys got Cheerios and an early bedtime. I did snap a few pictures to show Allen (and you) but the trash truck hauled away all the evidence the next morning. And now I have another story for my grandkids to enjoy.
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