Gage isn’t allowed to go into the fridge and grab himself a snack. Partially because he would eat absolutely everything and leave a trail of sloppy yogurt juice in his wake, and partially because our fridge is a gigantic game of tetris leftovers, and game where only the most experienced puzzle makers can prevail.
So of course yesterday Gage went into the fridge to grab himself an unauthorized snack and because he lacks the superpowers it takes to traverse the fridge game, he pulled on the wrong puzzle piece and my favorite vintage ceramic bowl filled with freshly cut up cantaloupe crashed onto the floor in a million juicy pieces.
I could have cared less about the fruit – it was overripe to begin with and I only paid $3 for it at the farmers market.
But the vintage bowl? I was pretty pissed, not gonna lie. I reprimanded him – hard.
I stomped on his spirit and made sure he knew what a very bad boy he was was. And then he cried, offered to clean up the mess and fix the bowl – and made me feel like the worst mom ever for losing my temper with him.
Not my finest parenting moment.
Friday night I was home alone with the kids while Michael had a band gig downtown. I had put everyone to bed, settled in on the sofa for a little Revenge (my new netflix guilty pleasure) when Gage comes walking down the stairs looking very very guilty.
Him: “It was in my mouth, and now it’s in my tummy.”
Me: “Um, what are you talking about? you should have been asleep an hour ago.”
While he should have been sleeping, Gage tipped toed into the girls room, stole a coin, and put it in his mouth and swallowed. Verdict is still out (or should I say in) but we’ve determined it to be a penny or dime.
We’ve done some consulting, and he has three poops to return the coin or we head to the ER for an x-ray to determine it’s whereabouts.
Currently he has one more poop to produce treasure.
I call not it. Except I probably am it. I’m always it.
Just today as we were driving to church Michael made a comment that he feels we’re on the verge of disaster. Bowl breaking and money eating are just two examples, but I could write a laundry list for each child of all the ridiculous how did we get here situations we deal with each and every week.
On Saturday we got in the car to go to Costco as a family. About half way down the block from home, we realized Nola wasn’t in the car. We were gone less than 30 seconds, she was upstairs in the loft reading quietly, but in the chaos of getting out of the house, WE FORGOT A CHILD.
I know I’m almost 35, but I don’t feel old enough or responsible enough to be a parent.
And little boys? They’ll give you a good toss around the ring and leave you a bloody mess.
They’ll send mixed messages buy telling you they’re never talking to you ever ever again – while trying to sit on your lap at the very same time.
They’ll sneak downstairs at 4 in the morning and eat a whole box of crunchy bars, and then deny it even though the wrappers and sticky peanut pieces are stuck to their bedsheets.
They’ll take your electric razor, turn it on, and use it on their head.
They’ll eat all your money and ware rain boots (without socks) every single day of the week.
Every day I’m working on this parent thing. Some women just seem innately really good at being a mom – always doing what is right and never missing a beat, let alone forgetting a child reading upstairs.
Me? I’m still learning. And every day is an opportunity for a do-over. I’m so glad I get to be these little kids mom – even if it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
Because if I was the nanny – I would have been fired a long time ago.