01 March 2015

Getting Knocked Down & Back Up Again

Some of the best advice I ever got: There’s no such thing as a good day or a bad day. There are only good moments and bad moments.

It’s taken me two kids to really fully digest that, and I think it’s so true. It also saves my hide on the regular. Just think: you’re having a great day with your short people, and then something happens. Either one gets in trouble or someone falls and starts crying or Mama loses her patience or temper and doesn’t respond properly, and BOOM. Bad DAY. But if you look at it all as MOMENTS, then that was just one little bad moment, and you can go on to reap a million more good moments before the next bad moment.

Because the next bad moment will come. You may as well go ahead and count on that.

One minute, I’m winning as a house frau. I’ve put in a full day at work, quickly done the grocery shopping, put a supper on the table cluttered with Crayons and Strawberry Shortcake dollars that everyone is excited about, done a little kitchen dancing and singing, bathed everyone – with bubbles! – and then the baby wants me to stand and rock him to sleep instead of in the recliner, and it’s suddenly all crashing down faster than this toilet paper tower.

Why? Well, because I wanted things one way, and he wanted things another, and just maybe my hormones have kidnapped the rational side of my brain, and so here we’re having a bad moment. A dumb one, even.

But we come back stronger. Do we have a choice?

We had so many good moments yesterday. Like listening to Katie ask me to read National Geographic to her before work, so we could holler “Cuscus!” together and laugh real hard. And Beau waking up happy and sweaty. And both kids wallerin’ in the bed with their daddy while I finished packing my bags for work…where Katie would yell out: “Hey, Mom!” every time I passed the doorway.

Last night, we actually found it within ourselves to laugh at the way that Beau grabs the cup from his sister in the bathtub, fills it with water, and then dumps it over the side of the tub. All faster than you can grab his dimpled little hands.

I mean our bathroom floor will have to be pulled up and left to rot until he moves out and we can safely re-tile, but it’s just money and looks, right?

Who ever knew that a giant package of toilet paper could be so entertaining? She hauled these rolls around from room to room for a few hours the day I took these pictures. She used them to build fences for her animals and herself and stacked them just to watch them fall.

It’s still a grand occasion when Mama comes home with TP to unpack. When I got home from the grocery store last night, she unpacked all the bags, as usual. Only this time, she wanted to play “store.” So she lined everything up in the middle of the kitchen floor and categorized everything by whether or not it came from a farm. And if you think I was able to navigate our tiny kitchen, which was supporting a giant baby Jumperoo and Katie’s farm fare last night, without sending jars of baby food and a package of elbow noodles skidding under the fridge, then we’ve never met.

I have trouble navigating a room without tripping on a good day with no breakable or squishable obstacles. (I’m looking at you, loaf of bread.)

By sit-down-at-the-table time, we’d discerned that the peas in bubba’s baby food came from a farm, the Skinner noodles came from a shaft of wheat, the cheese cubes came from a dairy farm, and Mama is headed directly to the funny farm.

See you there.

1 comment:

  1. Anonymous3/08/2015

    Always makig me laugh :)