An askew view....

Saying that your floors are good enough to eat off of is not necessarily a good thing as my daughter Amelia observed after  eavesdropping on a phone conversation I recently had where I had said" my floors are nice enough to eat off of..." Immediately I heard giggles bubbling from my seven-year-old daughter. Choosing to pay attention to my phone call rather than to what was tickling my daughter's funnybone I continued my conversation. Her giggles soon bubbled over into full on laughter to the point where I put down the phone and asked, "Girl what are you laughing at?" A slight apprehensive look crossed her face, "Well mom like the saying goes ' if you're going to eavesdrop you better eavesdrop good'," she began, "I was just listening to you talk on the phone and I thought to myself.... if your floors are good enough to eat off of, perhaps it's time you cleaned your floors if there's that much food spilled on them!" Needless to say I could not return to my phone conversation for sometime having to stifle my laughter... How true though... And even if you're going to eavesdrop and you make sure you eavesdrop good the understanding of the message might be lost in translation! Now I better stop fooling around on the Internet and get to cleaning my floors before dinnertime!!!

The "helping" boy.

Last night as I clicked the dishwasher closed, I smiled at my minuscule accomplishments for the day. I've been trying very hard to dig my way out from underneath the holidays with little success. I really cannot complain however, all the laundry in the house is clean! Although, it hasn't been folded or put away and forget about ironing and mending! I look across my house and it almost resembles an episode of hoarders... but I know that under the piles of clean laundry there are clean floors and counters. Between puttering around after two mobile children, three dogs, and one rather fat demanding cat, I usually sit on the couch for a miniscule moment and proceed to nurse, change, or cuddle the non-mobile  third child... Many times I shake my fist at the air and ask, "Why can't I get some help?" As of late my right hand man is Ash my three year old boy who to my detriment eagerly "helps". I find myself undoing what he has done rather than accomplishing the tasks I set out for myself! Mostly a waste of a day!! His "helping" hinders housework hopes... At least at the end of my day I can relax with my feet up, listening to the soothing sounds of both the wash machine and the dishwasher grinding away the last of my tasks....there is something about the sound of housework being done by someone or something else that is so satisfying! Last night the lull of my lazy lounging was quickly stripped away from me as at first I smelled a pungent stench seeping through my kitchen. I then noticed smoke billowing from my dishwasher. I jumped up with a start, ran over to the dishwasher, whipped open the door, and there through black and gray smoke I examined the contents for the culprit.... What I found melted to the bottom heating element of my dishwasher was a mess of mushy mangled spatula... I felt tears sting my eyes. Tears partly from the smoke, partly from emotion and sheer exhaustion.  I thought back to loading the dishwasher. How could this have slipped my attention? Had I absentmindedly placed the spatula in a precarious position? No, I always check these things before I turn the dishwasher on. I thought a little harder. I had a helper! Ash had insisted on putting the soap in the dishwasher and closing the door. Had my little three-year-old boy helper helped a little too much? At this point, as though my children sensed my thoughts, both staggered into the living room coughing and waving their hands in front of their faces. Being awoken by the foul smelling smoke both children were full of questions.... Amilea was hoping we would have to stay in a hotel for tonight. I explained the catastrophe contained in the dishwasher, as I opened up doors and windows to let some fresh air in. I noticed Ash's eyes growing large and round as a confession bubbled and brewed ready to spill from his lips "But I put the spatula on the bottom where it would be safe!"he stammered. I looked at the boy, puzzled, "you PUT the spatula on the heating element? "I asked him. "Yes mom it kept falling off the top shelf so I put it on the bottom under that ring so it wouldn't slide around! It is now safe!! " Amilea snorted, "I am going to bed, the spatula is not safe, it's DEAD!" And in a seven-year-old fashion, she rolled her eyes and turned on her heel stomping off to bed! It was left to me and the boy to clean up.... All in all everything worked out. The air was literally cleared as the boy and I scraped the remaining spatula goo from the heating element of the dishwasher. We then shared some midnight cookies and hot chocolate as our late night reward for a job well done. Ash excitedly said, "I love helping you mommy! I will do it more often!!" Dear God do I need more help?

Oh brother!

I have received a swift beating this morning! My three-year-old son jumped from bed and ran into the living room to serve me a beating to remember! I was on the couch with the baby battling the boogers using the evil snot sucker when the boy entered the room a flurry of fists and feet! he was heading straight for me with a grimace on his face. Attacking me he yelled, "Hands off my baby sister you!" Amidst  my confusion I held my hand out to thwart off his advances. Brow furrowed, the boy continued his barrage of flailing body parts. "Leave her alone. You are making me MAD!" he growled at me. I jumped to my feet to escape my miniature assalent. "What is your issue Ash?" Immediately he broke down in tears. "I was sleeping, and then I heard our baby crying. I was scared that someone was hurting our baby." His crimson cheeks were streaked with tears, "I jumped out of bed and looked for my sword but I couldn't find it. So I decided to be a ninja and get the bad guy who was hurting our baby!" After some snuggles and talking it out the boy calm down. He explained that he didn't even notice it was me with the baby that he his eyes were still too sleepy to see me when he started his "mission" to save his sister. I guess it runs in the family. I too can't see straight first thing in the morning and nothing makes sense without your morning coffee! Peace has returned to our household after the deluge of defense from the diligent big brother!!! (and two cups of coffee!!)