Tales from the Crib: Adventures in mommyhood
I thought today would be a good day to take the kids out for a walk. Except for the mountains of dirty snow in parking lots most of central New York's more than 3 feet deep snow pack has melted away. The sidewalks are once again clear and safe for strollers and small children. Tulips and daffodils are starting to poke their heads out of the ground and in some places the crocuses are already blooming. I was looking forward to taking the kids out on a hunt for the early blooms. I was even contemplating a stop in the park for a few minutes on the swings or slide.
My plan was to feed and clean the kids, do one or two chores, take a shower and then hit the road. Everything was going well until we got to the "mom takes a shower" part of the plan. I kept checking on the kids while I was doing the dishes. They seemed to be entertaining themselves in non-destructive ways. I thought it was safe to run off and take a quick shower. I should have locked the kids in their room. No one screamed in anger or pain while I got dressed. In fact it was quiet, too quiet.
I ran down stairs with my purse and coat ready to truss the kids up in their outdoor gear. The first sign that something was perhaps not right was the closed dining room door. Isaiah, the youngest at 19 months old, has a thing for closing doors. What was he doing in the dining room?
I opened the door expecting to find him in the corner snacking on some cheerios he had stashed away during breakfast. Instead I found him sitting on top of the dining room table. He was diligently engaged in eating almost an entire stick of butter that had been left on the table. Isaiah had butter smeared all over himself from his nose to his knees. He had also done a thorough job of buttering the table around him.
So much for going for a walk. After his butter binge Isaiah was ready for his nap. He was not happy about bypassing his room to have the butter cleaned off of him in the bathroom. He was quite happy to snuggle up with his lamby once the ordeal was over.
Ethan was quietly arranging and counting oranges on the dining room table during the entire ordeal. Oh, and did I mention that Isaiah is lactose intolerant?
My plan was to feed and clean the kids, do one or two chores, take a shower and then hit the road. Everything was going well until we got to the "mom takes a shower" part of the plan. I kept checking on the kids while I was doing the dishes. They seemed to be entertaining themselves in non-destructive ways. I thought it was safe to run off and take a quick shower. I should have locked the kids in their room. No one screamed in anger or pain while I got dressed. In fact it was quiet, too quiet.
I ran down stairs with my purse and coat ready to truss the kids up in their outdoor gear. The first sign that something was perhaps not right was the closed dining room door. Isaiah, the youngest at 19 months old, has a thing for closing doors. What was he doing in the dining room?
I opened the door expecting to find him in the corner snacking on some cheerios he had stashed away during breakfast. Instead I found him sitting on top of the dining room table. He was diligently engaged in eating almost an entire stick of butter that had been left on the table. Isaiah had butter smeared all over himself from his nose to his knees. He had also done a thorough job of buttering the table around him.
So much for going for a walk. After his butter binge Isaiah was ready for his nap. He was not happy about bypassing his room to have the butter cleaned off of him in the bathroom. He was quite happy to snuggle up with his lamby once the ordeal was over.
Ethan was quietly arranging and counting oranges on the dining room table during the entire ordeal. Oh, and did I mention that Isaiah is lactose intolerant?
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