Thursday, March 15, 2007

Hey Angelina, I've got a couple more for ya!

As the comedian Dane Cook once said in reference to a story he was about to tell, "Lets Tarantino it." Let's tell this story backwards. We'll start with the end result, go to the beginning, and then work our way back around to WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED.

Here are a couple of pictures to start us off. The "end result" pictures. I assure you (amazingly) no children were hurt in the making of this blog post.

Today started off great. The boys were outside from 10am-12:30pm or so, playing and doing what boys do. We had the downstairs carpet cleaned today, so it was a great excuse to KEEP THEM OUT for awhile. I thought I'd be a very hands-on Martha-ish Mom, and let them "create" their own mini Boboli pizza's for lunch. No pictures of this adventure, but trust me. A fun time was had by all, and they actually ate their pizza's along with carrots and strawberries. Success!
At this point, I'm feeling like a very good Mom. Here it is 2pm, I haven't yelled, I haven't been suckered into letting them watch a video because I'm SO tired (that whole tons of energy thing that is supposed to happen in the 2nd trimester? Haven't gotten that yet) and I'd love to get a break. I've gotten some things done, the carpet is freshly cleaned, dinner mostly prep'd, my spring/Easter decor is out and that makes me happy, etc. Great day.

Anyway, after lunch the boys wanted to turn on the hose and play with the water-well, and just basically assault each other. Sure! Because I'm a great Mom today. No matter that our entire yard is mud waiting to happen, and the beige carpet was just cleaned. Go for it! It's all about their experience. I'll work it out. As an aside - we met with landscapers this evening about doing some minor landscaping, sprinklers, and sod. They start next week. Yay!

Okay, where were we. Right, the water war outside. For starters, my little boy promptly hosed down the sliding glass doors that I had *just* Windex'ed. I let it go!! I let it go people, he's 3. What do I expect? I'm a great Mom today.

Once the boys were thoroughly soaked, they moved on to using shovels to dig up patches of mud. And then they threw them at each other. Boys. Who are these icky little people? I mean really. But they were laughing, so again. Whatever. Knock yourselves out.
Because they were shivering and their lips were blue, I decided that it was time to round 'em up.
I let them out via the side gate, stripped them at the front door, and lifted them both into the shower so that none of their disgusting-ness would get on the carpet. Once they were freshly showered, I did indeed let them watch a video. The minute I sat down on the couch with my shiny new People magazine (first time I sat down all day) they wanted a snack, and I in turn - wanted them to disappear. I made them a deal. They would watch Bob the Freakin' Builder for the duration of this 30 minute video. They would not speak to me. Or throw things. Or cry about anything. Once the video was over, I would get them a snack.
Big Boy? Deal. Little Boy? Deal.
Of course, the video was over in what felt like a second. So popcorn and orange juice it was. As the boys were having their snack, I was checking email. I heard it happen. You know don't need sight to know that something bad is happening. You just know. It's a giggle here, a whisper can feel it in the air like pollution. I heard a kernel or five hitting the floor. I heard the big boy giggling and nothing from the little boy. I gave them a 5 minute warning. They had 5 minutes to clean up whatever mess had occurred and then I. was. coming. in. there. So of course, big boy starts hustling. Poor thing. It's almost never his fault......
But here's the thing about guilt. If you stand there and watch while someone else beats an old lady with a baseball bat (which is basically what's going on here, isn't it?) and you don't do or say anything about it - aren't you guilty too? I guess not if you're only 5.
The time had come - I went into the popcorn war zone area. And guess what I saw?


I'm telling you - I could barely see through the fury. I know that the big boy didn't toss one kernel. It was all the little boy who is ALSO old enough to know better. I told them (okay, I screamed. I'm human) to get upstairs and stay there until I said that they could come down. I did this to PROTECT THEIR LIVES. In retrospect, I should have held it together and stood there until they (especially the little one) picked up every single piece. But honestly - I was ready to go all Bill Cosby on them (I brought you into this world - and I can take you out!!!) and I really needed them to be FAR AWAY. So I swept, and then mopped the floor. The big boy did what he always does when he's upset - he tucked himself into his bed and went to sleep. The little boy stood at the top of the stairs whimpering pathetically that he "missed me" and wanted to come down. I finally let him. He sat down to read a book, and then crashed.

It's a good thing I love these boys more than my last breathe. It's a good thing.

No comments: