Note: This was written a few months ago, before Lila Grace walked and before we lost our dog, but I liked it so much I decided to post it.
Life with small children requires one to accept that everything in your normal routine will eventually be interrupted. For the Type B personality this may not be a big adjustment, but for us with the Type A (control freak) personality this can be a lesson. Learning to “go with the flow” takes patience, determination, a sense of humor, and many deep breaths.
Most days rock along just fine. Interruptions are minimal and the “TO DO” list gets accomplished (mostly). But then there are days when interruptions are the rule, not the exception. Today has been one such day.
It started out like any other typical weekday morning. Midmorning, I decide I need to wash up the bottles and sippy cups. I turn on our favorite cartoon, Dora, and head to the kitchen. I start by running the dish water and filling it with the dirty bottles and sippy cups on the counter. I notice that I am missing a couple of bottles and so I turn off the water and go and get the diaper bag. Inside I find one missing bottle and digging around notice that’s the only one in there. I also notice there is an unusual odor seeping out of the diaper bag. I realize it’s been a while (3 weeks) since I cleaned out the diaper bag and so I decide to investigate the odor.
Unpacking the diaper bag on the counter I find various items that had fallen to the bottom and been forgotten. There at the bottom of the bag, I find the smell – a nice chunk of uneaten, rotten banana! Now, we never take banana with us as a snack (too messy at this age). So how and when did this item get there? Suddenly, an image of my toddler pops in my head. She has pulled the diaper bag off its resting place in the utility room and is curiously digging around in it. This was right after she had a banana for snack (which I assumed she had finished) four days ago! Banana mystery solved.
So, I decide to spray the inside of the diaper bag that is now growing some type of mold or fungus or something black, and let it soak for a while. I get the cleaner spray from over the fridge and spray the bag. While doing this, my toddler decides it’s time for a snack. So I wash my hands and quickly make some peanut butter crackers. I sit the baby in her high chair, the toddler in her chair and present them with snack. I go and pause the cartoon, clean up from snack making, and get back to my dirty bottles and sippy cups.
I set up the bottle drainer (kept under the sink) and begin to wash bottle nipples. I get about three washed when I hear “Mama, cup.” After all, peanut butter does require some type of beverage, so I fix a cup of milk and take it to the dining room. I head back to the kitchen to wash more bottle nipples when I realize I am still missing a bottle. Hmmm….where could it be? It dawns on me that my toddler “cleaned” the den this morning. (Cleaning = pick everything up and put in the toy baskets). So I head to the toy baskets, and there is the bottle amongst the books and baby dolls. Pleased with my detective work, I head back to the sink and resume my task.
I get a few more items washed when the dryer buzzes. I stop, dry my hands, and go unload the dryer. (I dislike leaving the clothing in the dryer because they tend to become wrinkled). I normally like to fold clothing on our bed, but since the girls are eating snack, I have to stay in the living area. I decide to fold the clothes on the end of the dining table. The girls are quietly eating their snack and being very messy. I head back to the dryer, load it with the towels from the washer, and prepare to add another load to the washer when I realize the dirty clothes are still stacked in the master bath in the other end of the house. So, I turn off the washer and plan to come back to this – after snack time.
By this point, my toddler is finished eating and is yelling “Down, down.” I get her down, march her to the kitchen, wet a rag and remove the remainder of her snack from her hands and face. I then decide that the diaper bag has soaked long enough and take another rag and begin scrubbing the “black stuff” off the bottom of the bag. This takes a few minutes. I clean the outside of the bag too. Why not? I’m already her with all the correct tools. I hang the clean bag on the pantry door to dry. I then wash my hands and return the cleaner to the cabinet over the fridge. Unfortunately, I bump the top of the fridge where a magnet is holding a birthday party invitation and it falls onto the tile floor at my feet. The magnet was a small glass bottle full of sand and tiny shells from Florida. Today, after 10 years of hanging on my fridge, it decides to retire itself by breaking into a few dozen shards of glass.
The noise sends my toddler running, barefoot, to see what’s going on. I get her to stop before the debris field and go back to the other side of the sofa. I get the broom and dustpan and start sweeping. I get the majority of the sand and shells up and start searching the area for glass. I decide to just be safe I would sweep the entire area – twice. I dump the dustpan and store them, replace the invitation on the fridge, tell my toddler she can get off the sofa, and return to my sink.
I manage to wash a few more items when the baby, still in her highchair eating snack, lets me know she is done. I take my wet rag over, wash her face and hands, pick her up and crumbs fall everywhere. (They were in the wrinkles of her shirt). I give her a kiss and hug, sit her in the den, unpause the TV, and head to get the broom and dustpan when I hear the dog barking. I go to the window and there is our seven pound dog, having escaped from the fenced in back yard, standing in the driveway barking at what looks like a full grown lab. I run to the garage, send up the garage door and yell for him to come inside immediately. He complied and almost looked relieved that I saved him from having to actually defend his turf. He runs past me and before I know it he is in the dining room getting the crumbs around the highchair. Oh well, no need for the broom!
I head back to the sink and resume washing when my phone rings. I dry my hands and answer (it’s my mom). We haven’t talked in a few days so she is telling me about my step-dad’s health, the oil at the beach, details about my sister’s wedding that’s only ten days away, and the pics of the girls she saw on Facebook. While we are talking, I head over to the den where the cartoon has gone off and turn off the TV. I sit down and scoop the baby up to sit in my lap. The toddler climbs in and snuggles beside me with a book. She “reads” the book to us while I finish my conversation.
After hanging up, I read the book to the girls. I notice the familiar smell of pooh, and announce it’s diaper time. We all head back to the girls’ room where I change both girls’ diapers on the changing table. They decide to play in their room for a minute, so I head to the master bath to get a basket of clothes for the washer. I load and start the washer, go back to the girls’ room and pick up a bit while they are playing in the floor. After a few minutes the toddler decides to head back to the den followed by the baby and me. (Walking behind a crawling baby is a slow go). I head back to the sink to resume washing.
By this time the water is cold, and since I have a thing about the water being hot, I drain the sink halfway and refill it with hot water. I resume washing. Both girls are in their play kitchen, when the baby pinches her finger. I rush over, pick her up, kiss her boo-boo and hold her until the crisis has passed and she is ready to resume playing. I head back to the sink when the toddler yells out from the den. She has decided to sit in her small chair sideways and is stuck. I get her free and explain that she should not sit in the chair that way. I head back to the sink and resume washing.
I finish washing all the bottles and sippy cups. I drain the sink and dry my hands.
I scoop up the baby and head to my chair in the den. I plan to sit here and play with the girls until the dryer buzzes, which ends up being only about five minutes. I give a deep sigh, set the baby in the floor and head to the utility room. I hate it when the clothes get wrinkled!
