Playing dirty

Benjamin: Moooooommmmyyyyyyyyy, Sonja threw dirt in my EYE!!!
Me: Don’t touch your dirty hands to your eye. Here, use this cloth.
Benjamin: It huuuuuuurts!!
Me: Let me see. Do you want some saline, or drops?
Benjamin: Nooooooo, it’s going to huuuuurt!
Me: Go wash your hands and use the clean cloth to touch your eye. Then come back and I’ll put some saline in your eye to wash the dirt out.

(Need I mention this happened prior to my second cup of coffee?  Na, didn’t think so…)

* Later *

Me: Benjamin, what are you wearing on your face?
Benjamin: Safety glasses!

Later still…

Sonja: Mooommmyyy, I got dirt in my eye too!…

Of course she does.

Lessons in parenting about fat lips and crooked teeth

My children have hearing problems. Or, more specifically, LISTENING problems.

Perhaps this is my fault. Because I do not consistently ENFORCE that they RESPECT my authority.

Take the running. Or jumping. Or climbing. In the house. These activities seem to occur regularly no matter how often they fall or cry or hurt themselves. No matter how often I ask them, tell them, make them stop.

Well, it finally happened. The 4yo knocked his front top tooth loose. I get to take him to the dentist for an X-Ray tomorrow, to check that the root is not damaged.

He also has a fat lip.

Matches the fat lip the toddler has from last week.

So naturally I bitched and complained to my email friend. She  said something to the effect that the boy is lucky to have me as a parent because if one of her brood had undermined her authority in a matter such as this one, she would have handled it differently.

Then she gave me a nice lesson to learn by. Which I feel compelled to document right here for future reminders.

She said:

…instead of forbidding the running (which you may do at times), I would work on enforcing the obeying/listening… because the physical running is only a symptom… the “illness” lies in the thinking that the child believes he is mature enough to override your authority…

Clearly, I have a lot to learn.

And so do the fat-lipped, crocked-toothed monkey children.

They just don’t listen

ben4bday2

It is a matter of months, weeks, days until that child knocks out one some of her teeth.

There is nothing I can do to prevent this from happening. No matter how hard I want it to not happen. No matter what I do. No matter what I wish. No matter what I say.

It is inevitable.

Today, after repeated attempts to convince her hardheadedness that jumping on the couch will result in a fall which will mean she will bump her head, she fell.

Hard.

Neither DH nor I were in the room when it happened. But we heard the big thump.

We went to check.

There’s blood out of her mouth, blood on her upper lip, and blood out of her nose.

No tooth missing though.

But it won’t be long…

Mishaps

The other day was a day full of mishaps. Nothing was going to be simple, strightforward, or easy. And it pretty much set the tone for the following couple of days. I’m still feeling the residual effects, truth be told.

It was one of those days where DH was actually home during the morning, which usually means I get to take my cuppa back to bed and read a page or two of a magazine or something. This blissful few minutes of peace never lasts long, but it’s a rare opportunity for me to, um, sleep in, I guess, even though it’s 6 am and still dark out.

Anyway, I reach for my cup on my bedside table, take a glorious sip, and while reading a recipe, put the cup back. Or so I thought.

Not only did it fall and spill all over the floor, it got part of the wall, an electrical outlet, the powerbar, the phone thingy that one sticks the phone cable into, and all the cables back there behind the bed.

Cleaning it up on less than a full cup of coffee, with the noise of the kids having breakfast with daddy who sits with them at the table but, ahem, reads the paper at the same time, was not helping the onset of a bad mood.

The fact that the crib is also in the already small bedroom makes moving furniture to clean rather frustrating. Sure, I can use vacuum attachments to get into tough, tight spots and suck up dust and dog hair, but a spill runs and stains and smells. Which means mommy is down on her hands and knees with paper towels.

Not. Happy.

But what to do but clean it up. I try to escape to the bathroom next so I can at least shower in peace (with a new cup of joe on the window sill), and what do I see? The toilet seat is broken. The fasteners holding it to the bowl are loose and the next person that will sit on it will inevitably do enough damage to break off the flimsy piece of plastic that is still holding it in place.

Better me than the 3yo, I guess, since if he falls into the toilet I’ll have more cleaning and laundry to do.

Later in the day, I forget to remove the dog’s water dish. The baby manages to go play with it and floods the kitchen floor. The dog’s dish isn’t far from the refridgerator, so naturally the doggiedrool water ends up running below it.

Note to self: invest in paper towel company. Or laundry detergent company.

I could go on about things like two baskets of clean laundry that have been sitting there waiting to be folded and put away, or the lack of organization due to recent paint projects, but the weather’s been fabulous, so I spent more time outside with the kids than I probably should have. The choice however was simple: enjoy the warmth and sunshine, let the kids run around while sitting and watching them (mostly), or stay indoors and clean stuff. And have the kids drive me batty.

Still…getting up every morning to these visual reminders hasn’t been very helpful in improving my mood.