"What is that sound?" is a question that sends fear and trepidation coursing through my veins. Sounds that I can't identify right away are almost always ominous. They are signals of mischief. My hearing is often the first sense to tip me off when Gavin is running amok. Today was no exception.
Today that sound was Gavin spraying the entire bathroom with Windex. Slowly and deliberately, he had emptied nearly a bottle of liquid on every surface. Lexi was begging for a turn with the sprayer. Instead, she got to help Gavin with the clean-up.
That sound came on a day when a woman stopped me at Hobby Lobby. "Can I offer a suggestion?" she asked.
I braced myself. People who approach me with that question, especially when they sound so polite, are never, ever polite. But since I had just asked this lady's co-worker to direct me to something specific, I thought she might actually have some constructive advice. "Sure," I replied, although I was anything but sure.
"Your son really ought to be wearing shoes."
What I thought was, "Oh, like the comfort and cleanliness of Gavin's feet are anywhere near the top of my list of things to worry about right now? Seriously? Can't you see that because we had this conversation he is approximately three miles ahead of me in a store full of breakables? Did you fail to notice the toddler standing precariously in the seat of this cart, waving her arms and yelling at her brother? Well, I'm a lot more concerned about getting out of here without Gavin turning that pottery display into an avalanche of broken clay."
What I actually said was, "Thanks for your concern. I agree with you." Or something bland like that.
The last stop on our errand run was The Natural Grocer, where a man in the check-out lane next to us openly laughed as I tried to wrangle Gavin and Lexi while I paid. He openly laughed again when we were getting in the van and Gavin kept running around it instead of climbing in the open door.
I didn't know that going to library story time would be such a mistake, but we lasted exactly seven minutes once Story Lady started reading about caves. Gavin was jumping and roaming and shouting out comments. He wouldn't wear his shoes, so Lexi was walking around in them, having discarded her own in the middle of the group of quiet, attentive children at the front. Then Gavin boldly declared, "I don't want any more stories!" So I spent minute eight collecting extraneous footwear and screaming children and dragged us all out the door. When we got to the car I realized my shirt was up around the top part of my pants' maternity panel. That tidbit no doubt screamed to the world: "This lady is in over her head. Try to avoid the erupting chaos as best you can."
What possessed me to cut Gavin's hair when we got home I will never know. But I did, and it went reasonably well...at least until the final seconds, when I was trimming the last of his hair line with clippers. He jerked his head and screamed, "I'm DONE!" That scored him a jagged cut to the neck and a ridiculous zigzag in his hair. Classic.
So if the next sound you hear is a siren, it's because the authorities at the loony bin finally got word that I have lost my mind, and they have come to collect me.
11 comments:
thank you thank you thank you for this blog!!! i was being grumpy at how horrible my morning was but yours is so much more chaotic that mine feels somewhat dreamy in comparison. not that that's any comfort to you, lol.
and to that lady at hobby lobby-good heavens. how you responded in a nice way is beyond me.
Oh, no, that is not fair. If you had a whopper yesterday, then today should be a day off (that is, a day filled with only the innumerable mundane, ordinary tasks of mothering, not a red-letter-in-a-bad-way day).
And, you know how I feel about nosy persons dispensing ill-timed axioms in Hobby Lobby and elsewhere, but just for good measure:
May the cat eat her, and the devil eat the cat!
Do people not have anything better to do than make ill-timed and holier- than-thou suggestions? I applaud you for your graciousness. And Rachel's comment is right on.
Okay, Heidi. Since you deal with this situation relatively often, what is your initial response when your child is doing something you haven't specifically told them not to (unless you had the foresight to tell Gavin NOT to douse the entire bathroom in Windex) but is wantonly destructive? I find myself kind of freaking out, but not sure if I should just send Brielle to timeout, or what. And if you respond calmly, can you tell me how this is done?
Don't you love 'free' advice from strangers. A couple months ago I was heading from the parking lot into the post office (maybe 10 feet). While Davis was waiting for me on the sidewalk so I could unload Baby, a lady stopped, looked down at him, and said to me, "You know what happens to fingers when the freeze? They fall off."
Nice.
oh my goodness!! I have days JUST like this. And Will and I JUST had the haircut episode last week, so I am sooooo with you!!!
I told my mother-in-law how happy I am that you are speaking soon at Women's Conference. I am soooo excited for you. You just have such a way of relating to women and their issues in such a clear, remarkable, and funny way!!
I guess I am just saying that I love you, and I love that you air out all your bad days and good days with all of us other ladies just like you!!
Love, Christa
The lady in hobby lobby probably doesn't have kids! If she does than her child is probably in bubble not having any fun. I've noticed that most people who judge parents don't have kids! You would be a great Mom even if Gavin never wore shoes in a store.
In my experience, anything that starts with, 'Can I tell you something?' almost always ends badly. In the midst of 1,000 difficulties, I'm proud of you for still being a good mom! Still getting kids out, still having littles clean up after themselves. You're a good mom!
It always feels good to crawl into bed at the end of the day, but some days it feels extra good to just get in bed. I seriously dislike "helpful" people when out in public. Don't get me wrong, I like helpful ones, just not "helpful" ones.
Shoes shmoos. Who needs shoes? If I could get away with going to Hobby Lobby barefoot I probably would.
Also, I need to tell you that the fact that you attempted story time with two little ones makes you my hero. Even the thought of going to the library with my 3 year old strikes fear into my heart.
I'm so impressed you kept your cool the whole day, especially when the lady gave you some friendly "advice".
Kind of like the cleaning lady at the mall bathroom in Germany who told me (in German), in a matter-of-fact-you're-breaking-the-rules kind of way that I shouldn't be changing my kid's (extremely poopy) diaper on the floor inside the handicap stall (because there was no changing station available). When she asked if I understood what she was saying, I truthfully said "no". So she proceeded to tell me once again, in German, the same thing. From the little I could make out, apparently, I was supposed to use the "family" bathroom for such tasks, which I'd actually looked for for 15 minutes with my poopy 18-month old but couldn't find (while the rest of the family was waiting for me in the car). Seriously, lady!
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