The six most used words in our home, " Oh Bo what did you do?"
Last Thursday was the kind of day that makes me question my vocation of motherhood.
Let me set the stage. I set the big kids up with lunch and went into my room to nurse Tucker asleep. I'm a sucker for bad (and super easy) habits. Madilyn comes in to inform me how much Bo "weally weally loves cream." Foolish me thought she was reminiscing of last nights Chick-Fil-A ice cream run. Silly me. I send her back to the table and come out 15 minutes later to Bo REALLY REALLY loving a Sam's Club size tub of SOUR cream. Loving it in his hair, on the counter, the floor, down the hall and walls, and not missing a square inch of any bare skin. It's like he lathered it on like lotion during a Rexburg winter.
And then there is a knock on my door. And it's my wonderful and kind, never have they been over before, visiting teachers, popping in for a quick end of the month hello.
To my couch I usher them, asking them to wait just a quick sec while I de-cream the boy. I banish him to his room for nap time. I field questions of the "tell us about yourself", and "what do you like to do when your not taking care of your kids?" sorts. With a fussy, needs a nap, Madilyn on my lap, and crying baby in my room.
Note- before you think I am a terrible person for saying this about having my VT come by, please know that I LOVE the organization of the church, and being able to go teach and be taught. It is an amazing and important program that I NORMALLY warmly welcome into my sticky home.
I excuse myself again and fetch the babe. Why is he crying? His brother is not in his room, but in my room, lights on, white noise off. His signature, I want to play with my brother for 45 seconds so I will just wake him up, move. Apparently his 45 seconds were up and he had moved himself into the bathroom. Super off limit room to him and he knows it. Child locks, be it medicine bottle or door are no match for him. The damage? 2 shattered bottles of essential oils, 1 emptied bottle of prenatals, and half a bottle of children's liquid Motrin . Foolish mother.
Again, Visiting Teachers waiting in my living room.
I send him to the hall bath to wash his hands and lock the master bath.
I head back to try to politely wrap things up. This takes more like 15 minutes as I stand bouncing a crying baby on my hip as I listen to the sisters talk to each other about school bus logistical issues, both current and from 24 years ago.
Finally it occurs to me that I am the dumbo that just sent Destruction Mode Bo into the bathroom alone. I check in. Flooded sink, flooded draws, and a solid inch of water on the floor. He was trying to use an empty wipe container to throw water from the sink to the toilet.
I really wrap things up with the sisters this time, and honestly tell them I'm looking forward to a much better visit next month.
1.5 hours later the kids are sleeping, and sour cream is mostly cleaned up, but another two hours before I have the courage to consider clean up my bathroom.
For the first time ever Jordan picked up Pizza on the way home from work.
Moral of this run on sentence? I think I made the mistake of telling Jordan how the kids and I were in such a good routine of things and how 3 kids were WAY easier than two or one kid. I also casually mentioned that it was kind of sad/weird that I wasn't going to be pregnant on a child's first birthday with future younger sibling. A first for us. And MAYBE we should have the baby conversation soon. Do you know what Jordan and Heavenly Father had to say about that? hardee Har har. How about a serving of Humble Pie?
