"You will be a better mom because you are a theologian, and a better theologian because you are a mom."

Is it true? In this blog, I explore the interplay and intersection of motherhood and theologianhood.

Tuesday, May 8, 2012


He looks so sweet and innocent in that flowing pink veil, doesn't he? Let me just disillusion you as to my darling son's daily activities, based on yesterday. A typical Monday morning, I was bustling around trying to get everyone ready to take Maia to school (Jeff left at 7:00 a.m.). Not sure when it happened - perhaps during my indulgent three-minute shower - Pax got hold of one of the girl's metal hair clippies. I didn't witness any of this, but anyway, he scratched up the entire front surface of the buffet in the dining room. He also scratched a few marks to add to his blue colored pencil drawing on the side of the buffet. 

I didn't notice any of this until after we had taken Maia to school. I had about 20 minutes before I had to be back to the school to read to her class, so I quickly set about doing what I could. I changed a load of laundry in the basement. While I was there the kids found a half-full box of liquid Flavorice popsicles, and P in particular was trying to figure out how to drink them. So I put those up really high, out of their reach and went upstairs to google how to get scratch marks off of furniture. Of the recommended solutions, the only one I had readily available was walnuts. So I rubbed walnut nutmeat all over the scratches. It worked remarkably well, I must say.

And it gave me courage to deal with the colored pencil next. While I was googling how to get colored pencil off of wood furniture, Eva came up from the basement. Patrick was down there alone, but at least I thought his trouble potential was pretty limited in the basement. As I was considering where we keep the WD-40 (the solution I found online for getting colored pencil off of wood furniture), Patrick walked upstairs, his jacket soaking wet, holding a liquid Flavorice.

Hmm... I was puzzled. Had one popsicle escaped when I put up the box? Now with only ten minutes to go to get back to the elementary school, I headed downstairs to find that Patrick had positioned a chair and a stepstool in order to reach the Flavorices. He'd managed to knock the box down on the floor, and probably about three of them had ripped open, splattering colored sugar juice all over the basement floor. Ick! I forgot the colored pencil, mopped up that mess, and somehow made it to the school on time.

 We went to a store after I read to Maia's class, and there was no mischief with Pax strapped into the carseat or the shopping cart. Then I had the blessed naptime. After that, the kids were playing outside. I was trying to find my turkey-quinoa meatloaf recipe on my iPad, and everyone seemed happy, spread out among  swingset, playset, jungle gym, tree swing, playhouse, etc. I have to say we have a very entertaining back yard. Then I decided I needed to go to the bathroom, and I don't trust P outside by himself, and since the bathroom is on the second floor, I thought I had better take him with me.

I went to retrieve him from the playset, and he tried to evade me (which he couldn't do - there's only one door!). He was laughing mischievously... but why? Then I discovered the reason for his laughter. He seemed to know he was doing something naughty. He was playing with broken glass, photo below.
Now, I think our yard is generally pretty safe, the biggest hazard being tree branches dropping from all the 100-year old trees around us. But after a few good rains, the yard seems to sprout two hazards: 1. mushrooms and 2. broken glass. I blame it on the previous teenage boy who lived in our house; there seems to be a stash of broken beer bottles behind the shed. I've spent a fair amount of time over the past two years  searching for broken glass and digging it out. That's why I was amazed that such a large pile had been revealed after the last rainstorm. But thank goodness I figured out P was playing with broken glass. Because while it is certainly entertaining (remember that old SNL skit, where the guy is selling bags of broken glass for kids to play with?!), I wouldn't pick it as a top toy for my 18-month old.

That disaster was averted, and, an hour later, with the meatloaf made and dinner on the table, things seemed to be winding down. P finished dinner before everyone else and wanted "OUT, OUT, OUT!" so I tried to keep him seated a little longer by giving him a cookie. Finally as the rest of us began dessert, I released him to freedom. Ten minutes later we realized he'd surreptitiously escaped with part of the cookie still in tact. He did a nice job smearing a big chocolate line across the dining room carpet. Even the Green Machine couldn't erase all evidence of it.

So there you have it. That's my boy. He's cute, he's sweet, and he's a lot of trouble.

Even during the writing of this post (in the playroom), he managed to find a black marker (thanks for leaving that out, Maia!), and wrote all over the castle tent.

1 comment:

Mr. Bojangles said...

I totally remember that SNL skit! It was a Christmas consumer advocate/toy safety thing and Dan Aykroyd (had to google that, but yes, it's spelled correctly!) was showing the new popular toy that year - Bag O' Broken Glass. Awesome. Thanks for that memory!