Ever have those days where you feel like you've lived an entire day's worth of events in just a few hours...and you roll your eyes wearily when you glance at the clock and it's not even noon yet?
That's kind of how today is shaping up for me. Because it's still summer vacation for our older son, Jericho, we've been sleeping in around here. Well, I should say that Jericho gets to sleep in late, and that's only because he's 11, and could sleep through a train rumbling through his bedroom. My alarm goes off about 8 am every morning, calling from the crib in his bedroom, "Mama? Maaaaaama?" over and over until I finally get up to get him.
So there I was blissfully enjoying my dreams, when suddenly a little finger poked my eye.
"Mama? I want foo" Judah said.
"Shhh. Mama sleeping" I mumbled, remembering vaguely that he ended up in our room after prolonged crying in the night. Which also explained the crick in my neck.
After a couple of companatory whimpering sounds, I hear once again, "Foo, mama."
I ignored him.
He lifted my eyelid.
I exhaled wearily but couldn't help but to chuckle. He's bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, raring to go while I laze about in bed. It must be well after 9am, I think as I slide my legs over the edge of the bed and sit up while prying my other eyelid open.
"Are you hungry or something, Judah-boo?"
He nods enthusiastically, gathering up his blankies to climb down off my bed. I glance at the alarm clock. 8:20.
At least I'd gotten 20 minutes more sleep than yesterday. I rub my eyes in the way grandma always said not to lest I get wrinkles (and I'm beginning to think she was onto something with that advice) and haul my carcass out of bed.
Remembering I'd picked up the fixings for "Fluffernutter" sandwiches on the way home from church last night, I scooped up Judah and headed for the kitchen. It was time to try them at last.
On the way out of my room, Judah leaned to get right into my line of vision, "Foo, mama?" he asked around his Binky. I remind myself that we need to wean him from the Binky soon. That and finally get him potty-trained.
"Yeah, buddy. We've got some food. And I think you're gonna love it."
I would not normally advocate having marshmallow creme-peanut butter sandwiches for breakfast, but I justified it being that I was putting it on 100% whole wheat bread and the other ingredient was organic peanut butter. I mean, how much worse could it be for you than a PBJ? I even used a cookie cutter to remove the crusts for the full effect (;-) Jenster and Katybug), and after strapping Judah into his high chair went to get the camera to document the event.
It's harder than you might think spreading marshmallow creme on bread. That could be because I had to use Kraft brand instead of the more authentic Fluff brand that is used out East, but I'm thinking it had more to do with the stuff ending up in the fridge when the groceries got put away last night. After it thawed sufficiently, and the peanut butter was added to it, it swirled quite nicely on the bread. Behold, the fluffernutter sandwich (see picture).
Judah looked at the finished sandwich skeptically, when I placed it in front of him. Probably because he usually gets sandwiches for lunch, not breakfast. "Try it, boo-boo" I prompted. "It's yummy."
Well, he did, and he liked it. A lot. He also enjoyed fingerpainting with the sticky ooze that fell on his high-chair tray in the process. It's amazing how much square footage one scant teaspoon of marshmallow creme can cover. When all was said and done, I don't think anything within his reach was unscathed. His hair, his face, his entire high chair (even the part behind him). Sticky, sticky stuff. But judging by the fact he didn't leave a bite, I'm guessing he liked it. As did I.
Unfortunately, giving my almost-two-year old that much sugar for breakfast was like giving him control of an outboard motor. He's been on full-throttle since, surging from one thing to another, leaving more than the usual messes in his wake. In the five minutes it took for me to clean off his high chair, he had already gotten into my camera bag (which I'd accidentally left unlatched in it's drawer), removed the video camera, then the lens cap and covered the lens with tiny fingerprints. Miraculously the area in which he did this was well-padded, so there was no harm done.
So while I'm cleaning the video camera lens, I see him reaching for my camera which was still sitting out on my desk from earlier. "No!" I hollered, and ran to rescue the camera just in the nick of time.
In putting my cameras safely away, I bent back a fingernail. Ouch! I then went about straightening up the kitchen and switching over the laundry my husband had tossed in before leaving for work.
Usually, setting Judah up in front of the TV to watch Charlotte's Web gives me a few minutes to get my housework started. But when I brought the load of clothes to the couch to fold, I found him trying to plug the vacuum cord into the nearby outlet.
"No, NO!" I said, yelling and clapping loudly to distract him sufficiently until I could get across the living room to him. "Danger!"
So I moved the TV stand so that it blocked that outlet and woke up big brother to get his chores done. While waiting for him to report for duty, I began to look for the DVD we were supposed to take back this morning, and finally located it in the VCR slot (where I've learned to look for lots of things since big brother's stunt with the toast at about age two). It didn't take a detective to figure out who the culprit was. Little fingerprints were all over it.
Turning around from extracting the DVD from the VCR slot, I find toys all over the place that weren't there even a minute ago. The kid moves like Dash from The Incredibles, assisted by the surge of sugar in his bloodstream, no doubt. The laundry I'd just put on the couch not two minutes before was already all over the floor where he was rolling in it like autumn leaves. It was a disheartening mess, especially when the next task on my list was to vacuum.
Why is it that every chore a person needs to do with children in the home is dependant upon another chore getting done first?
So I'm barking like a drill sergeant at my older son to get his chores done (sorting laundry, feeding the dog) so that I can get more laundry going, while I'm picking up all the strewn about laundry.
Judah apparently thinks it's clean-up time, and begins to 'help' by putting toys on a shelf and pushing my glass picture frames to the back where it sounds suspiciously like they broke.
Seeing his sandals on the other couch, I ask him to put all the shoes in the front closet.
While I straighten the shelf with the picture frames (amazingly still intact) , he dutifully puts all the shoes away. All except his little pair of sandals, which he very carefully stowed beneath the sofa next to my tennis shoes. I find this when I pass by on my way to his toybox with an armload of toys, and my heart immediately melts.
"Awwww" I exclaim, and after putting away the toys, I get out the camera and take a picture.
When I turn around, I find that he's turned off my computer (which in between my tasks I'd turned on, signed onto my ISP and then signed on to update this blog step-by-laborious step, being dial-up) and was now playing with my cell-phone.
I broke a different fingernail off below the quick trying secure the camera back into it's bag. It's bleeding. I think it's time I just gave up on my nails for a while. There will be plenty of time for that once Judah graduates from high school.
That's kind of how today is shaping up for me. Because it's still summer vacation for our older son, Jericho, we've been sleeping in around here. Well, I should say that Jericho gets to sleep in late, and that's only because he's 11, and could sleep through a train rumbling through his bedroom. My alarm goes off about 8 am every morning, calling from the crib in his bedroom, "Mama? Maaaaaama?" over and over until I finally get up to get him.
So there I was blissfully enjoying my dreams, when suddenly a little finger poked my eye.
"Mama? I want foo" Judah said.
"Shhh. Mama sleeping" I mumbled, remembering vaguely that he ended up in our room after prolonged crying in the night. Which also explained the crick in my neck.
After a couple of companatory whimpering sounds, I hear once again, "Foo, mama."
I ignored him.
He lifted my eyelid.
I exhaled wearily but couldn't help but to chuckle. He's bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, raring to go while I laze about in bed. It must be well after 9am, I think as I slide my legs over the edge of the bed and sit up while prying my other eyelid open.
"Are you hungry or something, Judah-boo?"
He nods enthusiastically, gathering up his blankies to climb down off my bed. I glance at the alarm clock. 8:20.
At least I'd gotten 20 minutes more sleep than yesterday. I rub my eyes in the way grandma always said not to lest I get wrinkles (and I'm beginning to think she was onto something with that advice) and haul my carcass out of bed.
Remembering I'd picked up the fixings for "Fluffernutter" sandwiches on the way home from church last night, I scooped up Judah and headed for the kitchen. It was time to try them at last.
On the way out of my room, Judah leaned to get right into my line of vision, "Foo, mama?" he asked around his Binky. I remind myself that we need to wean him from the Binky soon. That and finally get him potty-trained.
"Yeah, buddy. We've got some food. And I think you're gonna love it."
I would not normally advocate having marshmallow creme-peanut butter sandwiches for breakfast, but I justified it being that I was putting it on 100% whole wheat bread and the other ingredient was organic peanut butter. I mean, how much worse could it be for you than a PBJ? I even used a cookie cutter to remove the crusts for the full effect (;-) Jenster and Katybug), and after strapping Judah into his high chair went to get the camera to document the event.
It's harder than you might think spreading marshmallow creme on bread. That could be because I had to use Kraft brand instead of the more authentic Fluff brand that is used out East, but I'm thinking it had more to do with the stuff ending up in the fridge when the groceries got put away last night. After it thawed sufficiently, and the peanut butter was added to it, it swirled quite nicely on the bread. Behold, the fluffernutter sandwich (see picture).
Judah looked at the finished sandwich skeptically, when I placed it in front of him. Probably because he usually gets sandwiches for lunch, not breakfast. "Try it, boo-boo" I prompted. "It's yummy."
Well, he did, and he liked it. A lot. He also enjoyed fingerpainting with the sticky ooze that fell on his high-chair tray in the process. It's amazing how much square footage one scant teaspoon of marshmallow creme can cover. When all was said and done, I don't think anything within his reach was unscathed. His hair, his face, his entire high chair (even the part behind him). Sticky, sticky stuff. But judging by the fact he didn't leave a bite, I'm guessing he liked it. As did I.
Unfortunately, giving my almost-two-year old that much sugar for breakfast was like giving him control of an outboard motor. He's been on full-throttle since, surging from one thing to another, leaving more than the usual messes in his wake. In the five minutes it took for me to clean off his high chair, he had already gotten into my camera bag (which I'd accidentally left unlatched in it's drawer), removed the video camera, then the lens cap and covered the lens with tiny fingerprints. Miraculously the area in which he did this was well-padded, so there was no harm done.
So while I'm cleaning the video camera lens, I see him reaching for my camera which was still sitting out on my desk from earlier. "No!" I hollered, and ran to rescue the camera just in the nick of time.
In putting my cameras safely away, I bent back a fingernail. Ouch! I then went about straightening up the kitchen and switching over the laundry my husband had tossed in before leaving for work.
Usually, setting Judah up in front of the TV to watch Charlotte's Web gives me a few minutes to get my housework started. But when I brought the load of clothes to the couch to fold, I found him trying to plug the vacuum cord into the nearby outlet.
"No, NO!" I said, yelling and clapping loudly to distract him sufficiently until I could get across the living room to him. "Danger!"
So I moved the TV stand so that it blocked that outlet and woke up big brother to get his chores done. While waiting for him to report for duty, I began to look for the DVD we were supposed to take back this morning, and finally located it in the VCR slot (where I've learned to look for lots of things since big brother's stunt with the toast at about age two). It didn't take a detective to figure out who the culprit was. Little fingerprints were all over it.
Turning around from extracting the DVD from the VCR slot, I find toys all over the place that weren't there even a minute ago. The kid moves like Dash from The Incredibles, assisted by the surge of sugar in his bloodstream, no doubt. The laundry I'd just put on the couch not two minutes before was already all over the floor where he was rolling in it like autumn leaves. It was a disheartening mess, especially when the next task on my list was to vacuum.
Why is it that every chore a person needs to do with children in the home is dependant upon another chore getting done first?
So I'm barking like a drill sergeant at my older son to get his chores done (sorting laundry, feeding the dog) so that I can get more laundry going, while I'm picking up all the strewn about laundry.
Judah apparently thinks it's clean-up time, and begins to 'help' by putting toys on a shelf and pushing my glass picture frames to the back where it sounds suspiciously like they broke.
Seeing his sandals on the other couch, I ask him to put all the shoes in the front closet.
While I straighten the shelf with the picture frames (amazingly still intact) , he dutifully puts all the shoes away. All except his little pair of sandals, which he very carefully stowed beneath the sofa next to my tennis shoes. I find this when I pass by on my way to his toybox with an armload of toys, and my heart immediately melts.
"Awwww" I exclaim, and after putting away the toys, I get out the camera and take a picture.
When I turn around, I find that he's turned off my computer (which in between my tasks I'd turned on, signed onto my ISP and then signed on to update this blog step-by-laborious step, being dial-up) and was now playing with my cell-phone.
I broke a different fingernail off below the quick trying secure the camera back into it's bag. It's bleeding. I think it's time I just gave up on my nails for a while. There will be plenty of time for that once Judah graduates from high school.
3 comments:
Oh my, Becky! What a morning!!
Congratulations on your induction into the fluffernutter fanclub. Way to go!!
I love the way you write. :o)
Oh Becky, when on earth are you going to publish your stories? As much as I thoroughly enjoy reading these blogs, despite the extra wrinkles/laugh/smile lines from them, when are you gonna really push to get those published??? I'll give you 5 years... Then it won't be too late for the girls, as they are growing up fast!
MMMmmm, I want a fluffernutter right now! I'd probably just use the marshmellows I have in the cupboard, melted by microwave, with toasted wheat bread and crunchy peanut butter. I know what we're having for dindin!
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