So, this whole “going back to being a mom full-time” after months of other people caring for my children while I recovered? Not so sure I’m ready. I totally want to be ready. In my mind I am ready. My body gives out on me about halfway through the day, but if I can get a nap (that’s a big if!), then I can continue. I think the question is, “Am I mentally ready?” Perhaps it’s because my children are crazy! Crazy fun. But also just plain crazy.
Tuesday was a long day. The two days of rain had taken its toll and my boys were awash in cabin fever. I had a physical therapy appt. which took me
blissfully away from home for 2 hours in the afternoon. Upon my return I discovered that my boys were hyped beyond imagination and were taking advantage of their poor sitter to do everything they knew they weren’t allowed to do. (Tammy, if you’re reading this, you don’t ever have to come back to this madhouse if you don’t want to.) Once she left, the insanity continued, so after supper I thought it would be a wonderful idea to put all the children in the bathtub and let them play for a bit. They would be contained, I could help my parents clean up the kitchen, and we could all catch a break. Warning: insane children plus a bathtub full of water is NOT a wonderful idea.
The fighting ensued culminating in Micah’s screech, “AsHER! Stop PEEing on me!” Oh my stars! Did I just hear that? What do I do with that? Sigh. So much for the peacefulness of bathtime. With the help of my mother (who is a saint, by the way), I emptied the tub, refilled it, got Ash out immediately, then continued with my evening… putting the kids down for bed. Grandma took charge of our baby girl, and I got the boys all snuggled in their beds. Ginormous hugs and kisses, then upstairs with Tiff to settle in to Idol. Yes, I am an Idol fan.
Do you remember those nights as a kid when you went to bed, but you were way too hyped to sleep? You would lie in bed and your imagination would go wild playing long into the night? And your parents would keep coming to check on you and you’d hear them coming and pretend you were asleep? But they were smart and magical and all those things parents are and I could never pull anything over on them. At least not until I was older. I was the sneaky kid. My brother, he was the problem child… just kidding, Mike. I love you.
The sneakiness of my past has caught up to me with my children. I went down a few times to calm them down and lay down the law. A law which they promptly ignored. After traipsing downstairs for the umpteenth time, doling out their discipline, and missing Idol performances. Because we all know that Idol is much more important that training up a child in the way he should go! I mean, how am I going to know if they can really sing Andrew Lloyd Webber songs? As Simon put it, if you’re really a star, you can sing anything and aren’t tied to one genre. Which promptly deflated my balloon that I really am a star. However, I do consider myself a semi-Webber aficionado. And I picked it… Carly would sing Jesus Christ Superstar. I would never in my wildest dream think Jason would sing Memory. But I digress…
Half an hour after putting the kids down for the night… Okay, has the phrase, “putting your kids down” for the night ever bothered anyone like it bothers me? I feel like I’m on a farm and our favorite horse just broke his leg. “Gotta put Ranger down” and, heavy-hearted, we pull out the ol’ shotgun. Not something I’m inclined to do with my children. I digress yet again…
I got the children in bed. Half and hour later I came down to turn off the bathroom light because they were playing too much in their room and it was time for the light to go off. They squealed at me. “But our room will be too dark and we’ll be scared.” I told them they have their nightlight and the light from the living room and it was time to settle. At the end of Idol, I went downstairs to check on the kids, because although they were quiet, I could hear rustling and knew something just wasn’t quite right. I peeked in their room and found empty beds.
“They’re not in their beds!” I cried. I searched the bathroom and living room and finally went back to their room and turned on their light. In the corner, behind the hamper, I spotted a little brown-haired head. “WHAT are you doing?!” I asked, half-screeching, half-laughing as Bear emerged from underneath the wagon full of stuffed animals. Blond hair askew, lips trembling, green eyes troubled, he whined, “We were hiding because we were scary (that’s scared in Micah-ese). Asher said there was a monster in the closet and we were hiding from it.” I sputtered, not quite sure what to say. Then he nailed me with, “So I was under the wagon praying to GOD that I would feel better and not be scary.” (Can I just interject that I must be listening to too many Piper sermons online, because Bear said “God’ just like John Piper!)
Trying hard not to laugh, I opened the closet, showed them that there truly were no monsters in the closet, tucked them in bed and told Micah that it was good that He turned to God when he was scared, because the Bible tells us that when we are afraid we can trust in Him. Micah heaved a deep sigh, curled up with his green blanket, and fell to sleep promptly. Asher climbed in bed looking guilty because he knew he had just implanted fear in the heart of his brother. “I’m sorry, Mama.” big brown eyes pooling with tears. “It’s okay, buddy. Plant another ginormous kiss on me!” More hugs and kisses and he was soon asleep.
Then I went back out to the living room, told the story to my parents and laughed so hard tears were streaming down my cheeks. Ahhh, the joys of reclaiming my home. Is it even possible?