Today we awoke with a couple simple goals in mind:
Play with Michael.
and
Clean the house.
and
Plan ahead for the whole weekend since you're going to be away for most of it.
Clean the house.
and
Plan ahead for the whole weekend since you're going to be away for most of it.
That last one may have been just mine.
But, anyway, it was looking to be a busy, but reigned-in day. Plans to play outside with our neighbor, Michael, were used as motivation for getting through breakfast, getting dressed, morning devotional, cleaning the playroom.
Then, FINALLY, time to go outside and play with Michael. But...it was only 9am. And Michael, being 10 yrs old and on Spring Break, wasn't up yet. So, upset kids equal not-so-fun driveway play. So, we threw sidewalk chalk, ran over each other on bikes, and screamed at each other a lot (well, I mostly just sat on the porch and tried to get some reading done in preparation for a lesson on Sunday).
It was all a little horrible.
But all the screaming woke Michael up and he came to play so maybe it was worth it?
Anyway...we all played. Front yard, Garage, ("Not inside though, Michael") Back yard, Front yard, ("No, really, Michael, not inside.")...kid has quite the interest in the inside of our house for some reason.
Trust me, kid, you're missing out on nothing. Ooh, unless your house is lacking in general clutter and dust. Oh wait, it is. (Seriously ALWAYS spotless. Literally spotless.)
After a while, it was getting a bit warm, the kids were getting flushed and bored and Michael's Grandma, AKA our lovely neighbor Candace AKA Sister Greer AKA The One Who Leads the Music in Primary came out to say hi and invited the kids to come play inside. We all went inside and enjoyed some fun play time in Michael's room. (Well, again...I mostly just read. But there was a cool train set.) Michael's Grandma AKA Candace AKA...nevermind...she had been mowing the lawn (yep) and disappeared to take a quick shower. The bunch of us moved into the backyard which my kids, by the way, think is the greatest backyard of all time. It was getting toward lunch so I warned everyone that we had about ten minutes to play then we would be heading home. Nobody was very happy with me (Michael had just had breakfast so he was quite suspicious of my reasoning, might I add) and I had a feeling it was going to be an interesting scene once the time came to leave.
Play time continued though, I pushed on Bethany on the swings and perused the raised garden bed, thinking of whether or not I would try something like that while the boys pretended to be pirates. I noticed that in one section of the yard(there are several 'sections'...corner lot), the sprinklers were on.
Good timing, Candace, I thought to myself since she had just finished mowing the lawn.
I also thought to myself "Good thing we're playing over here and not over there since the kids are terrified of nothing more than sprinklers spontaneously popping out of the ground and chasing them with their streams of water."
And that is where my thinking stopped. I broke up some sort of fight, and playtime ensued.
Then, things sort of happened in slow motion.
I saw the sprinklers stop and pop back into the ground.
I saw the kids all playing tag nearby.
I saw some funny movement throughout sections of the grass the kids were in.
I heard a sound like a dishwasher starting up.
I thought, hmm. That's a weird noise.
Then...the backyard suddenly exploded into arcs of water meant to refresh and pamper the freshly cut grass.
Screaming.
Running. (always the wrong direction)
Panicking.
Observing. (Michael)
Rescuing. (Me)
James was first, as he was closest. I scooped him up and delivered him, shaking but hardly wet, to the back porch...out of the line of fire.
Bethany had the good sense to remove herself to the section of the yard without sprinklers. But it was on the side opposite from where we all were. The island of the sprinklers separated her from her family and the tears started.
Poor Ben was running around like a chicken with its head cut off amongst the sprinklers. Once he got hit, he would turn and run another way until he was hit with water again. (Keep in mind, these are not the little wimpy fountain-type ones like we have. These are the kind that shoot a giant stream of water and make their way across the lawn, criss-crossing each other, the tops of their arches at about the height of my head. To the kids, these were like giant hybrids of their worst nightmare.) Eyes alternating between wide and panicked to squeezed shut in terror (all while running and flailing), Ben was trying his darndest to get the (word of your choice) out of the battle zone! I went in after him, tripping over my Old Navy flip flops (they are so slippery when wet) as he kept changing directions. He couldn't hear my calling and comforting over his own screams and shrieks. Finally, he notices me and turns my direction, arms outstretched, mouth open in a cry, eyes locked into mine. I can tell from five feet away that he is shaking like a leaf. And right before I get to him, right before he is safe, the minefield of horror strikes its last blow and a nearby sprinkler smacks him with probably a half gallon's worth of water right in the face. (That's when I actually felt super bad and...stopped laughing.)
Ben to porch. Hugs, kisses, face check (wasn't a forceful enough blow for pain, just really really wet). Boys huddle together.
Time to get Bethany.
She stands 20 feet from me, eyes wide and welled up.
"Mama."
"Don't worry, I'm coming" I say.
Back through the sprinklers, scoop her up.
"I don't want to get wet."
"You're going to have to, hon."
And like moving targets we went. Made it to the porch. Set her down. She joins the soaked, traumatized huddle.
(This is when I started laughing again.)
Time to go home.
Nobody wants to.
Michael is appearing a little glad to be rid of us though, after that display.
I dragged James home (literally) while Bethany droopily led the way, Ben plunking along next to me in a bit of a daze, his shoes making squishing noises and leaving tracks on the sidewalk. I delivered James inside where he refused to stay. So, in order to clean up the bikes out front and get things all closed up, I had to lock him in his bedroom. I know it sounds horrible now that I'm out of the moment. But I really wasn't sure how else to get him to stay home. I know for a fact he would have escaped and run right back into the Greer's house soaking wet, slipping on their entryway and breaking something or other (whether in his body or without). So...into his room. Bethany and Ben sat on the stairs inside while I cleaned up out front, staring into the distance.
Just now writing this I remembered that I couldn't get the garage door to close. Still open. Hmm. JC will love that. Sorry honey. I'll get right on that.
...in a minute...
Back inside, I changed everyone's clothes. James stopped crying about that and started into it about something else. I think something about spiderman markers and a Mr. Potato Head. Ben busied himself with something in the corner of the kitchen (smart kid) and Bethany wailed about tuna fish and how she liked it last time she had it but she thinks this time she won't like it. Then, tired of the competition for the loudest wail, she clocks James on the side of the head.
I may have also locked her in her room.
Well, not really, but she did get sent there. Not as much of a flight risk.
Suddenly, I realized that this one spot of my head right around my ponytail had been itching for like, ever. (You know how that always happens after you've had a ponytail in for a while) And I was sure this is what was causing 96% of my irritation at this point. I couldn't take it anymore and scratched the itch, feeling much better. Except then I realized that I had used the same hand in which I was holding the can of tuna I had been draining. The first half of the draining had been done in the sink. The second half, right over my ponytail.
How do you forget you have an open can of tuna in your hand?
Hmm.
How indeed.
(JC and I are off for a little overnighter and day at the Renaissance Festival tomorrow and Saturday. It should be lovely and all the work I have to do today will be so worth it. Wish me luck. Especially since rest time just ended. At least I know that, if all else fails and I need something to refresh and relax me in the midst of all the preparations, Wet 'n Wild is just a couple houses down.)
But, anyway, it was looking to be a busy, but reigned-in day. Plans to play outside with our neighbor, Michael, were used as motivation for getting through breakfast, getting dressed, morning devotional, cleaning the playroom.
Then, FINALLY, time to go outside and play with Michael. But...it was only 9am. And Michael, being 10 yrs old and on Spring Break, wasn't up yet. So, upset kids equal not-so-fun driveway play. So, we threw sidewalk chalk, ran over each other on bikes, and screamed at each other a lot (well, I mostly just sat on the porch and tried to get some reading done in preparation for a lesson on Sunday).
It was all a little horrible.
But all the screaming woke Michael up and he came to play so maybe it was worth it?
Anyway...we all played. Front yard, Garage, ("Not inside though, Michael") Back yard, Front yard, ("No, really, Michael, not inside.")...kid has quite the interest in the inside of our house for some reason.
Trust me, kid, you're missing out on nothing. Ooh, unless your house is lacking in general clutter and dust. Oh wait, it is. (Seriously ALWAYS spotless. Literally spotless.)
After a while, it was getting a bit warm, the kids were getting flushed and bored and Michael's Grandma, AKA our lovely neighbor Candace AKA Sister Greer AKA The One Who Leads the Music in Primary came out to say hi and invited the kids to come play inside. We all went inside and enjoyed some fun play time in Michael's room. (Well, again...I mostly just read. But there was a cool train set.) Michael's Grandma AKA Candace AKA...nevermind...she had been mowing the lawn (yep) and disappeared to take a quick shower. The bunch of us moved into the backyard which my kids, by the way, think is the greatest backyard of all time. It was getting toward lunch so I warned everyone that we had about ten minutes to play then we would be heading home. Nobody was very happy with me (Michael had just had breakfast so he was quite suspicious of my reasoning, might I add) and I had a feeling it was going to be an interesting scene once the time came to leave.
Play time continued though, I pushed on Bethany on the swings and perused the raised garden bed, thinking of whether or not I would try something like that while the boys pretended to be pirates. I noticed that in one section of the yard(there are several 'sections'...corner lot), the sprinklers were on.
Good timing, Candace, I thought to myself since she had just finished mowing the lawn.
I also thought to myself "Good thing we're playing over here and not over there since the kids are terrified of nothing more than sprinklers spontaneously popping out of the ground and chasing them with their streams of water."
And that is where my thinking stopped. I broke up some sort of fight, and playtime ensued.
Then, things sort of happened in slow motion.
I saw the sprinklers stop and pop back into the ground.
I saw the kids all playing tag nearby.
I saw some funny movement throughout sections of the grass the kids were in.
I heard a sound like a dishwasher starting up.
I thought, hmm. That's a weird noise.
Then...the backyard suddenly exploded into arcs of water meant to refresh and pamper the freshly cut grass.
Screaming.
Running. (always the wrong direction)
Panicking.
Observing. (Michael)
Rescuing. (Me)
James was first, as he was closest. I scooped him up and delivered him, shaking but hardly wet, to the back porch...out of the line of fire.
Bethany had the good sense to remove herself to the section of the yard without sprinklers. But it was on the side opposite from where we all were. The island of the sprinklers separated her from her family and the tears started.
Poor Ben was running around like a chicken with its head cut off amongst the sprinklers. Once he got hit, he would turn and run another way until he was hit with water again. (Keep in mind, these are not the little wimpy fountain-type ones like we have. These are the kind that shoot a giant stream of water and make their way across the lawn, criss-crossing each other, the tops of their arches at about the height of my head. To the kids, these were like giant hybrids of their worst nightmare.) Eyes alternating between wide and panicked to squeezed shut in terror (all while running and flailing), Ben was trying his darndest to get the (word of your choice) out of the battle zone! I went in after him, tripping over my Old Navy flip flops (they are so slippery when wet) as he kept changing directions. He couldn't hear my calling and comforting over his own screams and shrieks. Finally, he notices me and turns my direction, arms outstretched, mouth open in a cry, eyes locked into mine. I can tell from five feet away that he is shaking like a leaf. And right before I get to him, right before he is safe, the minefield of horror strikes its last blow and a nearby sprinkler smacks him with probably a half gallon's worth of water right in the face. (That's when I actually felt super bad and...stopped laughing.)
Ben to porch. Hugs, kisses, face check (wasn't a forceful enough blow for pain, just really really wet). Boys huddle together.
Time to get Bethany.
She stands 20 feet from me, eyes wide and welled up.
"Mama."
"Don't worry, I'm coming" I say.
Back through the sprinklers, scoop her up.
"I don't want to get wet."
"You're going to have to, hon."
And like moving targets we went. Made it to the porch. Set her down. She joins the soaked, traumatized huddle.
(This is when I started laughing again.)
Time to go home.
Nobody wants to.
Michael is appearing a little glad to be rid of us though, after that display.
I dragged James home (literally) while Bethany droopily led the way, Ben plunking along next to me in a bit of a daze, his shoes making squishing noises and leaving tracks on the sidewalk. I delivered James inside where he refused to stay. So, in order to clean up the bikes out front and get things all closed up, I had to lock him in his bedroom. I know it sounds horrible now that I'm out of the moment. But I really wasn't sure how else to get him to stay home. I know for a fact he would have escaped and run right back into the Greer's house soaking wet, slipping on their entryway and breaking something or other (whether in his body or without). So...into his room. Bethany and Ben sat on the stairs inside while I cleaned up out front, staring into the distance.
Just now writing this I remembered that I couldn't get the garage door to close. Still open. Hmm. JC will love that. Sorry honey. I'll get right on that.
...in a minute...
Back inside, I changed everyone's clothes. James stopped crying about that and started into it about something else. I think something about spiderman markers and a Mr. Potato Head. Ben busied himself with something in the corner of the kitchen (smart kid) and Bethany wailed about tuna fish and how she liked it last time she had it but she thinks this time she won't like it. Then, tired of the competition for the loudest wail, she clocks James on the side of the head.
I may have also locked her in her room.
Well, not really, but she did get sent there. Not as much of a flight risk.
Suddenly, I realized that this one spot of my head right around my ponytail had been itching for like, ever. (You know how that always happens after you've had a ponytail in for a while) And I was sure this is what was causing 96% of my irritation at this point. I couldn't take it anymore and scratched the itch, feeling much better. Except then I realized that I had used the same hand in which I was holding the can of tuna I had been draining. The first half of the draining had been done in the sink. The second half, right over my ponytail.
How do you forget you have an open can of tuna in your hand?
Hmm.
How indeed.
(JC and I are off for a little overnighter and day at the Renaissance Festival tomorrow and Saturday. It should be lovely and all the work I have to do today will be so worth it. Wish me luck. Especially since rest time just ended. At least I know that, if all else fails and I need something to refresh and relax me in the midst of all the preparations, Wet 'n Wild is just a couple houses down.)
5 comments:
hahaha...aw, tuna in your hair. That's...special. And the vision of bethany separate by the sprinklers reminds me of Land Before Time: "Sarah was on one side of the great divide. Her family...was on the other."
Word: daing. How a black woman would respond to you getting tuna in your hair. "Daaaiiing."
Now that is HILARIOUS!! Of course, since it has passed, it's funny. I am sure in the moment you could have used an extra set of hands!! :)
As a mother of boys who are (or at one point were) flight risks, I completely understand the locked door. I've always said "hey, it's my job to keep them alive until they are 18." so if I have to 'lock 'em' up for a minute or carry them in a football hold in public, it's totally worth it.
PS My kids hate sprinklers too. Totally opposite of my childhood?!
PPS Have so much fun on your little get-a-way... you have EARNED it!! :)
Wow...that sounds so familiar. Well, okay not any of that has actually happened to me, but the crazy-ness :) I wish I could have been there to watch...I mean to help you! lol
Spring break is over and we didn't get together. Hmm, maybe we can get together next week for your birthday!! Yeah!
great visuals, good story!
k, seriously? SO funny! those are the types of posts that remind me of what a good writer you are and tell me that you could actually make money writing a mommy blog! my kids would have been in HEAVEN in those sprinklers. what is it that has your kids so afraid? just out of curiosity. i mean... that last splat of water in the face kind of explains it suppose...
also, i'm so glad i read your blog today. i've been having a very similar day in terms of things not working out precisely as planned, having other things i need to be doing, and very grouchy kids. branson has been banished to his room and i'm hoping it does him good. ugh! glad to know i'm not alone...
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