Gratitude, Game Changers, + The Boy Who Dumps Everything

Monday 6:52 a.m. 

Henry wants to help me make coffee this morning. I let him press the buttons on the Keurig and hold him as we wait. He pushes his warm, velvety cheek up against mine and is perfectly still while the coffee maker hums. 

The smell of hazelnut fills our nostrils and steam swirls lazily out of my coffee cup. "Woooow" he whispers softly, his eyes wide, as if coffee brewing is the most wonderful and miraculous thing he's ever seen.

"My feelings exactly Henry. My feelings exactly." 

Monday 7:40 a.m.

Lately I've realized that I can send the kids to play in the basement playroom together, unsupervised, for small chunks of time. This is a game changer because for the last 3 1/2 years I've had to have eyes on at least one of them pretty much every waking moment. (And in the brief moments I haven't, as you've read, destruction has been swift and certain.)

So now, on mornings when we are at home, I make the kids breakfast and then send them down to the playroom for a bit. In the 5-15 minutes (usually 30 seconds) that they play together happily, I sip coffee, clean up, write, read, flip on the food network.. It's a serious luxury and in these moments I think that maybe adding a third to the mix isn't going to be so tough! (Moms of 3+, I can HEAR you collectively LOL-ing as you sip your ice cold coffee... just let me have this one ok?!)

My secret to success in this time has been telling Violet that she's the babysitter and needs to let me know if Henry gets into mischief. (Mostly because I love the way she says the word "mischief.") 

Today, I send the kids downstairs to play while I clean up the kitchen after  breakfast. "Ok mamma!" Shouts Violet gleefully. "Don't worry." She puts her thumb to her chest, "I'LL let you know if Henry gets into mischief!" 

As I vacuum the last few crumbs off of the kitchen floor and the microwave beeps with my reheated coffee, I hear Violet shout from the basement "Mommy! Mommy! Henry just got into THE BIGGEST MISCHIEF EVER."

Bye bye, sweet, hot, coffee. Maybe we will meet again when these crazies go to college.

Monday 9 a.m.

The challenging side of having a 2 year old with the body of a ninja and the mind of an engineer is that he can pretty much get to and open/disassemble whatever he wants in under a minute. 

The bright side is that he's crazy observant. 

This morning Hank wanted to help me put away the dishes. I was hesitant, because as much as my life can (and does) get chaotic and messy and disorganized, I have always functioned better in order. If my kitchen cabinets don't look like this:

I start to feel a little bit like the whole system is imploding. (Tyler can attest to how often I talk about this "system." He totally loves it.) 

I watch Hank as he grabs a cutting board, walks it over to the proper cabinet, and slides it in sideways, next to the other cutting boards. I wait as he goes back for the ladle and puts it in the drawer with the large utensils, then grabs a tiny whisk and puts it in the drawer with the small utensils. "More please mamma!" He looks at me, waiting to see if he can continue.

...By all means son, PROCEED!

He pulls out the kids' plastic plates and heads to the pantry. He stacks them the way I do, with the large plates on the bottom, the medium plates in the middle, and the bowls on top.

Game changer. 

Later in the afternoon, I ask him to start cleaning up his blocks before nap time and he does this...

...so clearly I'm not raising a child prodigy over here. But still, game changer. 

Monday 5:03 p.m.

If you ever happen to call yourself "zen" in a blog post, you'd better be prepared for something like this to happen (again), causing you to question if your life is actually the movie Groundhog Day and if it's time to purchase a wet vac so you can stop lugging one to and from The Home Depot every 2 days:

   

The kids are not in the picture because this time they knew they'd better RUN.

Shout out to my sweet husband who--with full knowledge that he would be the one retrieving and operating the wet vac for the next 2 hours--returned home from work, caught sight of the detergent crime scene, and hugged me. "Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry" he said. "I'll head to Home Depot"

Dear Lord, give me this man's patience. 

And may we all have the patience of Tyler Barnett this week.

kb