Tag: adventures in mommyhood

  • The Power of Mom

    Have you heard stories about mothers who muster up super-human strength when their children are in danger? I have often wondered (but hope never to be in the position to find out) if I would find that power within me if it were ever needed. I realize, though, that there are little moments each day when we DO possess that strength – even if it is not as extreme as lifting a truck. No matter the circumstances, big or small, we just do what needs to be done for the well-being of our children and families.

    For example, when we were at the beach this summer, I was watching my son play in the ocean. It was a cool out and the waves felt uncomfortably cold on my toes. On brutally hot days, I often wade in up to my knees, but on this particular day, I had absolutely no interest in getting wet. However, when my son got knocked over by a wave while playing in the surf, I was unaware of the icy cold water and felt nothing as I practically dove into the ocean to help him get back on his feet. I did what needed to be done. I was, in that moment, a supermom.

    A few weeks back, my son wanted to ride his bike. So, we strapped on his helmet and I managed to finally figure out how to get my daughter into the back carry position in my Ergo. I was exhausted after a long day on my feet and was not looking forward to the walk. My bones were tired. My muscles were aching. I just wanted to be off my feet and unstrapped to a baby. We went anyway. Every step away from home meant another dreaded step back. But, when my son stumbled off his bike and scraped his knee and hand, I practically sprinted home with a baby on my back, a toddler and my hip, and a bicycle under my other arm. I could have walked miles… uphill… without regard for my throbbing feet, sore back, and overall lack of energy. I did what needed to be done. I was, in that moment, a supermom.

    Recently, I made some hard-boiled eggs that were to be turned into egg salad for lunch. I put my baby girl down on the floor to play, but she had no interest in being there and let me know by wailing every time she was set down. I was without my Moby Wrap and Ergo, so I was not hands free. With a baby who needed some love on my hip, I managed to figure out how to crack and peel hard boiled eggs using only one hand. I even used chin to help me open the jar of mayonnaise and my toes to pick up the dish towel I dropped. I made the egg salad and it was delicious, all things considered. I did what needed to be done. I was, in that moment, a supermom.

    You may be thinking that these are trivial events which in no way compare to the moms who can lift and move a car off of a child, and you’d be right. But, I am proud of these tiny victories nonetheless. You know how adults applaud the littlest achievement of children, like “Hooray, you ate all of your peas!” and “Hooray, you lifted your arms over your head when I asked you how big you were!”? Well, perhaps our tiny mommy (or daddy) victories should receive such accolades too (and heck, I ate all my peas and no one even noticed). These moments should be bragged about – “Hooray, you made it home from the supermarket with both children AND the groceries!” or “Hooray, you somehow managed to make a home cooked meal for dinner,” or how about “Hooray, you took a shower today!” (okay, maybe that last one’s not a great example.) My point is that we should all receive pats on the back – even just for making it through the day sometimes – because when all is said and done, we all do what needs to be done. We are all supermoms.

  • The Sad Tale of the Paper Towel

    Today I wrote a grocery shopping list on a paper towel.  Then I forgot and used the paper towel to sop up some spilled water.  Then I threw it out.  Then I remembered.  Then I took it out of the garbage and rewrote the list on an actual piece of paper.  Then I left the wet, crumpled paper towel on the counter.  Then I went shopping.  Then I came home and started to prepare dinner.  Then I turned on the stove.  Then the ceiling fan blew the paper towel into the flames.  Then I smelled something burning.  Then I grabbed some tongs and dropped the paper towel into the sink.  Then I doused it with water.  Then I turned on the garbage disposal and pushed it down the drain.

    It wasn’t a good day to be a paper towel.

  • Mamas Can Fix Trains, Too!

    I fixed the train table.  I did it.  Me.  All.  By.  Myself.  The train tracks have been both a blessing and a curse in my house.  I found a train table on the curb one day.  It wasn’t in the greatest condition, but I figured with a little love, we could fix it up and make it like new again.  Well, that hasn’t really been done yet, but it’s clean and functional.

    We bought a basic set of trains and tracks at IKEA just to get us started.  Then, we bought a few Thomas pieces and were glad to inherit many more trains and buildings from a friend whose sons had outgrown them.

    Suddenly, the basic figure eight track layout seemed so dull.  In an effort to spruce it up a bit, we started changing the design.  But then it got complicated.  Once we started adding stations, water towers, and the like, things started not fitting well.  Before I knew it, we were back at the toy store getting connector pieces and more tracks.

    It was difficult for my son to play with these broken up tracks.  Finally, my husband began designing a new layout.  However, now we were missing stanchions (you know, those things that hold up the raised track).  As a result, every time my son went to drive his train, the tracks would fall apart.  It became very frustrating for all parties involved!

    My husband finally made some wood blocks to serve as stanchions, but due to many late nights at work he didn’t have a chance to work on fixing the tracks.  For weeks, the tracks remained relatively unplayable.  I tried to come to the rescue.  I attempted to fix the awesome layout my husband had started but, well, one thing led to another and before I knew it, the whole track was changed and unsalvageable.  To make matters worse, I didn’t take a photo before reconstruction began.  I have yet to live this down.

    My in-laws came to visit and stay for a weekend.  Grandpa was tasked with trying to undo the damage I had done.  He ended up starting from scratch and made a perfectly fine track.  Then, he tried to make it fancier… and fancier… and ended up having to go back to basics with his original design as he encountered the same problems we all had.  This layout got us through.  Trains were able to move around and we were able to play, so a special thanks to Grandpa for his time and effort.  Somehow, though, it didn’t last.  My son wanted to spruce it up a bit on his own and ended up making lots of tracks to nowhere.  Sigh.

    About a year ago, friends of ours donated a brand new Thomas train table to our local library.  It was great.  Although it is still there, trains are missing, pieces are broken, and the tracks are falling apart despite them being glued to the table.  Even still, the train table is a major highlight with all of the neighborhood kids when hanging out in the children’s section.  My kids and I went to play with it as we do after every weekly story hour and I suddenly had a brilliant idea.  “Take a photo.  This layout works.  Sure, we don’t have all of the same pieces, but maybe we can sort of replicate it.  Heck, it’s worth a try.”

    We went home and gave it a go.  Of course, each time a new track was placed on the table, there was immediately a train on top of it.  This slowed things down a bit.  And little baby fingers that came out of nowhere kept grabbing pieces and pulling them back down to the ground to be slobbered on – also not helpful.  Still, I persevered.  I used the photo from the library as my guide and watched in amazement as it started so come together, piece by piece.

    There are uphills.  There are downhills.  Tracks split then come back together.  Stanchions keep the raised track from falling.  There is a suspension bridge, a station, a water tower, a coal chute, a crane, and even a pirate ship.  I swear I heard an angelic chorus singing , “Aaaaaah,” as I placed the last piece on the track, realizing that it all fit.  No more tracks to nowhere.

    Trains zoomed around the track.  A little boy giggled with excitement.  A baby girl clapped hooray.  A mama was proud.

    When Papa returned from work, my son grabbed him by the hand and pulled him upstairs to see the new train setup.  On their way, I asked my husband if afterwards he would take my son outside to run around a bit before bed.  “Wow!” I heard from below.  “Screw taking him outside!  I’m playing with trains!”

    Mama done good.

  • The Rice Storm: When a Mess Comes Pouring In

    I should have taken a photo of the scene of the crime.  But, I didn’t take a photo.  I was too busy trying to keep my cool.

    Last night, my son requested to play with his rice sensory bin.  I was happy to oblige.  We spread out the white plastic tablecloth we use as a play mat and took out his bucket of tools (utensils, cardboard tubes, different shaped containers), construction trucks, and coffee stirrers (he pretends they are candles on an all rice birthday cake).  I reminded him the ONE rule for play… he can make as much mess as he wants ON THE MAT.  He can pour out every last grain of rice onto the floor as long as it stays ON THE MAT.  He can mix it, dump it, sprinkle it, and even put his feet in it as long as it stays ON THE MAT.  One rule.  That’s it.

    He was playing so nicely with his rice.  I even heard him making up dialogue for his trucks as they worked together on the construction site.  Since everything seemed under control, I stepped out of the room to clean up from dinner.  Then I heard little bursts of a sprinkling sound.  It’s fine, I thought.  He’s still playing on the mat.  He’s probably just dropping handfuls of rice back into the bowl.  Then, I heard a ting sound that wasn’t as familiar.  I didn’t recognize the noise of what the rice had bounced off of and I started to get concerned.  I checked in with him from the kitchen.  He assured me that he was just playing and everything was fine.  Since I wasn’t in a position to look into the room (soapy hands), I took his word for the moment.  But then I heard the sound again and I knew something was up.  As I quickly washed my hands so I could go investigate, in walks my son.  “Come,” he says, and takes me by the hand to his toy room.  “Look!”

    And there… all over the toy room floor… were hundreds of grains of rice.  Rice on the carpet.  Rice on the hardwood floors.  Rice on the couches.  Rice in my shoes.  Rice in my baby’s swing.  Rice on my laptop.  And the ting?  Rice on the television.

    It was everywhere.  I took a deep breath and how I managed to stay calm, I’ll never know.  Inside I wanted to scream or cry or run away and join the circus.  I quietly said, “What happened in here?”  His response was, “It was raining.”

    As a mother of a toddler, you have to be prepared for anything.  Toddlers are still learning self-control, and many of them have a hard time with this skill.  In this case, the desire to create a thunderstorm was so overwhelming that it could no longer be contained.  Of course, I knew this could happen, but still didn’t expect this level of destruction.  I asked him if he remembered what my one rule was for playing with the rice.  He remembered and was matter of factly able to repeat it back to me.  It seemed, however, that this storm came surging through the toy room without much warning – like a flash flood or a tornado.  And, as with most bad storms, cleaning up the devastation is tiresome, disheartening, and really hard work.  Everyone pitched in to help put the room back in order.  Still, somehow, I managed to never raise my voice.  My son, knowing he had made a boo boo, apologized to my husband and me and said he would try harder to remember next time.  Then, he picked up his broom and began sweeping.

     

     

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    You may also like:

    Independently My Way

    Other (non-disastrous) play adventures:

    “Eggcellent Adventures”

    Tissue Paper Art

    Sink or Float: An Experiment with Seltzer Water