Accomplishments

It often seems to me that, even though I'm constantly busy, I don't really achieve anything.  I look around at the end of the day and see that everything I've done has been undone or needs doing again already.  Sometimes it's a little hopeless.

Today I had the flu and spent the day going between my bed and the bathroom, while the kids ran around unsupervised doing who knows what.  I'm not sure what they had for breakfast, but I know it at least involved bananas, so that's good. 

After a few hours, I shuffled out to the kitchen to get some water and noticed play clay all over the kitchen table, muddy footprints tracking from the back door to the bathroom, the answering machine flashing, dishwasher full, sink full of dishes, back door propped open, CD player on, dirty clothes in the garage, crumbs everywhere.  I couldn't muster up the energy to care, so I went back to bed.

As I was lying there in misery, it occurred to me that I really do accomplish things around here, things that no one would ever notice unless I stopped doing them.  Thankfully, I married a wonderful man who appreciates and respects me (even when I wear pajamas all day), doesn't expect too much from me, and pretty well got things back in shape when he got home. 

Little girl conversations

I took Sarah to the park to play, and she immediately honed in on a little girl swinging.  Sarah started swinging next to her, and I sat on a bench behind them to listen to their conversation:

Sarah:  Hi! I'm Sarah. I'm 6.
Girl: Oh. I'm only 5.
Sarah: Well I used to be 5.  I've only been 6 for...not very many days.
G: My room is green with stickers.
S: Cool!  My room is pink.
G: I love pink!
S: Me too!  Love love love it!
G: My brother is 16.
S: My brother is 8.  His name's Noah, and he just has a brown room.  My mom's right back there.  Hi, Mom!
[I gave her a wave]
G: I don't like pink.
S: I don't either!

The conversation went on for a long time, and I wish I could remember the rest.  I remember a lot of meaningless jabber that neither of them understood, but it didn't seem to bother either of them.  The girl was telling Sarah about a movie that Sarah had never seen, and then Sarah was telling the girl about a book that she didn't seem to recognize, but they just went right on talking. 

Guinness

Noah has been interested in Guinness records, so I was showing him a picture of the largest ball of plastic wrap.  He read the caption about how it weighed 281 pounds and was equivalent to 360 regular rolls of plastic wrap.  He said, "Hey, I know how I can get into the Guinness book!  Just buy 361 rolls of plastic wrap and make them into a ball!"

Bacon hallucination

I went in to Sarah's room when she first woke up in the morning.  As usual, I had nothing with me, but she peered at my hand and said, "What's in your hand...bacon?"  I told her there was nothing in my hand, and she said, "My eyes are a little foggy from sleeping."

Paying it forward

Chilly, windy, rainy days always make me want to make soup.  I thought today might be one of my last opportunities until fall, so I got out the soup pot. The kids also like making soup, and they wanted to help. Sometimes they actually do help (Sarah makes the trip to the basement to get onions and potatoes; Noah peels the potatoes like a professional; Sarah washes the vegetables), but overall, their "help" takes twice as long and makes at least twice the mess as just doing it myself.  Also, a jail cell is twice the width of my kitchen, so adding kids and their stepstools in the kitchen leaves zero room for me to maneuver.  But I want them to know how to cook, and some good math and science lessons always happen in the kitchen, so I just start early, muster up all the patience I can, and keep a sink full of soapy water.

Sarah wanted to chop the carrots, and of course she wanted to use my favorite knife, so I used the inferior knife to chop the onions while she did the carrots.  I explained to her that all the carrot pieces needed to be roughly the same size, or else the little ones would turn to mush while the big ones were still hard.  She said, "OK, Mom" and proceeded to cut some chunks that were two inches long and some tiny little shavings.  It took me way longer to even them out than it would have if I had just chopped them myself from the beginning.

Noah wanted to chop the potatoes with my best knife, so I gave it to him while I used the inferior one to chop celery.  I gave him the same lesson about chopping equal, bite-sized chunks.  He is older, has had more practice, and is a much better listener, so I didn't even supervise him as he chopped all the potatoes and dumped them into the pot with all the other vegetables.

Sarah wanted something to do, so just to keep her busy, I told her to add some water to the pot and stir it.  I looked in the pot and saw huge chunks of potatoes swirling around with pea-sized potatoes.  I spent a long time fishing out the big chunks and paring them down to a manageable size.  I took a step and felt vegetables crunch under my feet.  I looked down and saw that there was more food on the floor than in the pot.

Despite my patience-mustering, I was annoyed by all the extra time, effort, and mess.  I thought, "I've been training these people for so many years, and I'm not seeing a lot of progress.  By the time they're more of a help than a hindrance, they'll be ready to leave and start their own families."  That's when it occurred to me that raising children is all about paying it forward.  You teach and train, plant and sow, all for someone else to eventually reap the harvest.  Then I realized that I'm reaping the benefits of my in-laws' training, because they raised my husband to be a fine man.

The Bosses

Conversation on the way home from ballet:

Noah: When we get home, I'm going to be Anakin Skywalker. Sarah, you can be Princess Leia.
Sarah: No, I'm going to be Jessica (from Electric Company).
N: OK, you can be Jessica, and I'll be Anakin.
S: No, you have to be someone from Electric Company.  You be Hector.
N: OK, I'll be Hector, but I get to be the boss.
S: No, I'm the boss.
N: You can't get everything!  Either we're Star Wars characters and you're the boss, or we're Electric Company characters and I'm the boss. That's called compromise.
S: I'm Jessica. You're Hector. I'm the boss.
N: OK, we'll both be bosses!
S: No. There can only be one boss.
N: No, there can be two.  Like Mom and Dad are both bosses of us.
S: No, Dad's the boss.
N: I know, but when Dad's gone, Mom's the boss.  See?  Two bosses.
S: And when Mom and Dad are both gone, you're the boss. 
N: Mom, can you go somewhere so I can be the boss? 

I think I'll go to Hawaii and leave them to boss each other around to infinity. 

Healthy lemonade

I made lemonade for Sarah's birthday party, and we have some left.  The kids wanted some at lunch, so I gave them each a small glass of it.  When Noah asked to be excused, I asked him if he had eaten any apple slices, and he said, "No, but I ate a lot of carrots, and I had lemonade, so that's my fruit and vegetables right there."  I informed him that there was no actual lemon in the lemonade, just lemon flavoring and sugar and no nutritional value at all.  He said, "How do they make the lemon flavoring?"  That gave me pause.  I have no idea how it's made, nor have I ever cared.  I ended up telling him that I doubted there was any actual lemon involved, and even if there was, it certainly wouldn't be enough to qualify as a serving of fruit.