Why I Don’t Blog Much Lately

I had a clever thought this morning while I was driving my “big kids” (Kindergarten, 1st grade) to school, and thought I’d blog about it before I forgot. However, in the time it took me to turn on my computer and remember my login name and password, this is what my 3-year-old dumped onto the kitchen floor:

1 large container of oatmeal
1 family-size canister of Swiss Miss Cocoa (that’s 132 servings, in case you’re wondering)
2 sticks of butter
2 lbs. of corn chips
3 priceless modeling clay figurines made by big brother

“Mommy, I’m making the floor slippery so I can ice skate!”

This is why they still teach Lamaze breathing. Everyone knows it’s useless during labor, but it can prevent you from killing your preschoolers!

Anyway, sorry–I forgot what I was going to say…

Comments

  1. Kristine says:

    Dave,

    Alas, much of what I think during Sunday School is not fit to print. But it is my favorite time of the week, especially since I discovered that no one is in the mother’s lounge at that time and I can take a nap in one of the nice chairs in there–and here I’ve gone all this time thinking there weren’t many advantages to being female in the church ;)

  2. Every time I hear stories like this, it makes me so grateful to have spent all six years of parenting while Jeremy’s been in school. We’ve never lived anywhere big enough for the boys to get into things unnoticed. The only time they can really get away with something is when I’m nursing the baby. The other day our 3-year-old slipped outside (I could hear him, but I knew he’d just stay on the front porch.) Ten minutes later, when I checked on him, he was still on the porch, just sitting and watching the construction workers in the street. Unfortunately, he was only wearing underwear (and maybe cowboy boots and swim goggles…)

  3. Jennifer Li says:

    I remember the oft told story of my brother wanting to scramble eggs, so he cracked a dozen eggs on the floor and started mixing them around. That has got to be about the worst thing to clean up next to dried milk and sugar mixture on an upholstered chair.

    Seriously though, I just helped a friend childproof her pantry and refrigerator. There are some great gadgets out there that kids cannot reach that can lock your stuff up real good. I was surprised. The refrigerator lock and bifold door locks are particularly ingenious and have kept her at least twice daily disasters on hold, if she remembers to lock things back up.

  4. mardell says:

    Kristine,
    I thought my four year old was bad. Yours seems to make mine look more like and angel than I thought he was.

  5. Looks like your little problem-maker could be a problem-solver in time. This child clearly sees a situation that needs fixing (floor not slippery enough to iceskate) and creates a solution to the problem with whatever materials are ready and at hand. Impressive ingenuity going on there. Thanks for sharing the story.

    :)

  6. My vote for worst thing to clean up — when my toddler stuck her hands, both, down into her dirty diaper, dirty, played around for a bit, and came to me with both hands covered. Peas. Lovely.

  7. Not bad.

    Just last Saturday, our boys were in big trouble for getting out Mardell’s cake pans, filling them with milk, and then sailing their toys around in them. In the family room. Not to be outdone by her brothers, around that same time, Indigo dumped laundry detergent all over the kitchen floor.

    Mardell and I were laughing about how sometimes, defenestration (either auto- or fili-, one of the two) starts to look mighty attractive. :)

  8. OK – Now I have to eat crow. It seems that the very act of writing about my 3-year-old knowing to stay on the porch was enough to trigger a whole new phase. Two hours after writing that, I came home to find that boy standing in the driveway around the corner, chatting it up with the house painter next door (Jeremy thought he was on the front porch). When I got out, the painter said, “He says he’s going to let me borrow Kimpossible.” This was followed by a whole week of constant sneaking which came to a head just now as I was doing dishes in my pajamas at 11:00 a.m. My son, who had refused all morning to put on a shirt, came wandering in and said, “Mom, a policeman came and he says I need to come get you.” Sure enough, there was the policeman outside our door (probably the same one who once tried to stop us as we were carrying groceries into our house–we think he thought we were selling things door-to-door, a strict no-no in our rather uppity neighborhood.) Anyway, he informed me that a 3-year-old was a little young to be running around outside by himself (he didn’t mention the no shoes or shirt in 60 degree weather, and I’m sure he was noticing my lovely attire and the screaming baby in the kitchen who had been waiting for me to finish the dishes). So maybe the threat of his mother getting arrested will be enough to scare him into staying inside. And maybe I’ve learned my lesson – I jinxed myself by blogging…

  9. mardell says:

    The worst mess I have ever cleaned up would have to be a tie between vaseline and desitin.
    Of course there was the time that the watermelon rolled of the table and broke open on the dining room floor. Then my son brought it to me so I could see what happened. Of course he had to go through the kitchen down the hall and into the office. Luckly there was no carpet involved, but my floors had never been so clean.

  10. This calls for a creative response. You might try having a notebook or Franklin Planner at church, and use that dead time (aka “meetings”) to draft a blog or two. I wrote my most recent post (“A Curriculum Experiment”) sitting in the foyer on Sunday. Sunday School can be a real inspiration, too–pour out your repressed frustration in a blog post draft instead of making a not-what-we-want-to-hear-in-class liberal comment.

  11. Kristine says:

    This morning’s mess was small potatoes. Last time a canister of hot cocoa spilled on the floor, it was spilled along with a quart of polyurethane. *That* was a mess.

    I had a pretty clever refrigerator lock for a while, too, but decided it wasn’t worth it when my then 4-year-old asked if he could use my chef’s knife to cut it off–“no, mommy, I won’t hurt the lock, I’ll just slide the knife between the plastic and that sticky part.” (btw, he only *asked* because the knife drawer was locked with a combination lock and he hadn’t figured those out yet). This is the same child who recently took his bed completely apart (y’know, IKEA makes ‘em easy to assemble with an Allen wrench–unfortunately, that works backwards, too) and reassembled it sans legs because he wanted it to be on the ground so monsters couldn’t hide under it. A fine example of mechanical skills outstripping other aspects of development…

  12. Kristine says:

    What you should be grateful for is a 3-year-old you know will stay on the front porch! :) I’ve never had that kind. First I had bells on the doors, and then we graduated to double-keyed doorknobs on all the outside doors. (Also, mine are spaced insanely close, so I had a baby to nurse all the time for about 5 1/2 years.)

  13. Kristine says:

    Yeah, I know–if they survive childhood, they are going to be brilliantly successful. Sometimes I wish for dumber children :)

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