The M Files

In celebration of the week of Mom, here's a post from my old home...



Wednesday January 12, 2005

After reading a post for a fellow blogger about her child's recent melt down, I am feeling inspired to share some of my wilder mommy-moments...


I am cleaning the bathroom at the top of the stairs. Thing2 (2yrs) is down the hall playing quietly in his room. Thing1 (4) is downstairs playing. Suddenly, Thing1 is flying up the stairs in tears. “MOOOOOMMMMMMEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!” Between the sniffles I get him to muffle out, “Thing2 bit me.” Hmmm, Thing2 is upstairs, in his room. Thing1 was downstairs and came up to me. They cannot get up or down the stairs without going by me. Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Yep, I look at the rather deep bite marks on my son’s arm. They would align perfectly if he raised his arm and *gasp* bit himself! I was floored. Not only did he lie to me, which is the biggest of all no-no’s in my house, but created and incident for the soul purpose of getting his brother in trouble AND HE BIT HIMSELF. It was not looking good in the brightness department for my oldest at that point.


I walk halfway downstairs to peer at my children. I see Thing1 (5) lying prone on the floor with Thing2 (3) sitting straddle over him. Both of them are deeply engrossed in Sesame Street. Thing2 is rhythmically flicking Thing1 in the head while Thing1 is responding “ow” in a steady monotone. So, what is a mom to do? Creep slowly back up the stairs, of course. They seem to have it all under control in my book.

I am sitting at the kitchen table reading and I hear 2 sets footsteps moving quickly down the hall and the predictable “I’m teeeeeelling Moooooommmm.” Then the steps slide to a quick halt (we have wood floors) and I hear whispers. Have you ever noticed that kids whisper louder than a normal conversation? Anyhoo, Thing1 (7) says to Thing2 (5), “Please don’t tell, I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll… I’ll let you punch me. Will that help?” Silence. Some shuffling. Then… “OWWWW!!!” And the footsteps recede back to whence they came...

My boys were at home with my friend A and her two children. I am sitting at work when my phone rings. “Bbbrrriiiinnnnggg.” It’s A. Now, keep in mind that she is home, ALONE, with our 4 children. I am immediately a bit worried for her physical and emotional well-being. First, she makes me promise that I will not attempt to bludgeon my youngest son into mush when I get home. She has already “taken care of it.” So I think, “Great! Bludgeoning isn’t much fun and then there is the mess!" At this point I promise and she tells me what happened. Three of the children were blissfully playing together on the floor in one room. Thing2(6) walks up behind them and starts to wash Thing1's (8) head… WITH THE TOILET BOWL BRUSH!!! No, I swear, I am not making this up. I was laughing so hard I was crying. His punishment? If he likes the toilet bowl brush so much, he can use it to clean both bathrooms. A is pretty darn good at this mom thing, don’t ya think? Here’s another A one. Just this last weekend my boys were up north staying with A’s family. Wait, wait, and let me preface this one. A absolutely adores Thing2 (7) and hopes to one day have him as a son-in-law. For some reason, his mischief is endearing to her. When I asked her if she still felt that way yesterday, she said YES!!! Holy Hannah, the woman is a glutton for punishment. So, here we go: A is up stairs and she hears, “Whomp!!! Whomp!!! Whomp!!!” This noise can send any mother moving at the speed of light. She goes flying down the stairs to see Thing2 standing over one of those big plastic tubs (the kind people pack up their Christmas decorations in). He has been beating on this tub with one of those red plastic baseball bats. She tells him to stop and in the ensuing silence she hears the giggling. She opens the lid of the tub and inside is her son, Peanut (3), laughing his head off.