I can't say that I am a big Bible waver, but when it comes to being a wife and mother I long to be just like the one described in Proverbs 31. She had all the bases covered and the respect of everyone (especially the author of that Bible chapter!). So, I figured she would be the perfect role model for me to follow. To that end I carefully read over the chapter and made a mental note of her attributes. Thus armed, I set forth on my planned course.
I can see
now that I should have checked with my family first.
It had
been one of those days, up with the baby at 5:00a.m. After an hour of pleading and crying (mine),
I finally relented and forsook my resolve to wean him. As soon as he settled in comfortably, the dog
started dancing frantically by the door and whining to get out. About that time
my older son stumbled out of his room, down the stairs and PAST THE DOG - to
turn on the T.V. After the baby
finished, I walked to the door looking for the dog and found her 'accident'
instead - with the bottom of my foot.
After cleaning up the mess, I returned upstairs to my teapot, which had
apparently boiled dry. I refilled it and
went in search of my newspaper. It was
late. My oldest daughter came along with
a message her father had left for me. It
seemed that the bottom of by teapot had split, and so I shouldn't use it. I raced upstairs to find a small lake of
boiling water forming on my stove top.
I cleaned
up the mess and got all four of the children sitting down and eating. I decided to slip into a quick shower (oh
sure, YOU can see the possibilities for disaster here - I didn't!). I had my hair full of shampoo, my face full
of soap and was about halfway through the second chorus of 'Rubber Ducky' when
the water started going crazy. By that I
mean that the water pressure would plummet, and the temperature would soar -
repeatedly. When I managed to get the
soap out of my eyes and leap out of the shower shrieking, I heard squeals of
laughter through the wall. I flew dripping
down the hall to investigate. It turned
out that the kids were all in the other bathroom. The baby was sitting on the potty (lid
closed) watching the others brush their teeth.
He would flush the toilet and the big kids would all start hollering for
him to stop - spraying toothpaste, foam and spit all over he mirror, sink,
counter and each other. This would cause
him to crack up and flush again. Why it
never occurred to them to just move him can only be explained by some sort of
family genetic discrepancy (their father's, of course).
I cannot
explain why I did what I did next. Maybe
it was a genetic discrepancy somewhere on MY family tree. After I cleaned up the mess and got everyone
dressed I decided to take the baby to get his picture taken. Talk about lacking a discerning spirit! It's just that he looked sooo cute in his
little striped shirt and overalls, so we went.
As soon as we arrived the signs that I had made a horrible mistake were
there. Two of the kids took off for toys
and as I stood watching them hurtle across the store, giving silent thanks that
they looked like their father and not me (at least people would have a more
difficult time identifying me as the culprit's mother). The third took off for clothing, forgetting,
I was sure, my reminder that her shopping budget was completely exhausted until
the year 2010. So, we were on our own, the baby and me. We headed for the department where the
photographer was located. That is when
things really started shaping up into disaster proportions. There was a line. O.K. we could handle that. The real problem was that the 'studio' was
set up in the center of the aisle. On
one side was a huge display featuring every known Sesame Street character and
on the other side was a virtual shrine to Barney the dinosaur and his
friends. The baby is absolutely RABID
about both. He promptly began foaming at
the mouth while chanting that one-word mantra of 18-month olds everywhere -
"MINE!" By the time it was our
turn, I couldn't find him in the cart, which was piled high with at least one
of each replica of his heroes - plush, plastic, wooden, cloth, cardboard,
crayon, Mylar, rubber, fuzzy, smooth, hard, soft, stiff, bendy, big, little,
fancy, plain and just about anything else you can think of. When I finally managed to fish him out he
refused to sit on the little platform to pose.
Every time I would sit him down he would let out an ear-piercing shriek
that could be heard by dogs three states away!
He would leap off the platform as if it was electrified and cling on to
whatever part of my anatomy he came into contact with (remember those cartoons
where that character is wrestling with a starfish? We were the 'live' version). This resulted in two buttons on my blouse
being ripped off, my ponytail being pulled over my left ear, his shoe getting
stuck in my jeans pocket and my glasses getting bent out of shape. A crowd was beginning to gather. I looked desperately at the photographer -
she was about 19 years old, and obviously new at this - she was looking at me
with an expression of pure horror and muttering a promise to sign one of those
celibacy pledges. No help there. I scanned the audience we had collected for a
friendly face. My rescuers! His brother and sisters. The two younger ones were laughing so hard
their older sister kept having to pick them off the floor. With a look that only a budding teenager can
muster, she rolled her eyes, sighed, and stepped forward. As soon as he saw the
three of them, the baby changed - completely.
When he noticed them laughing, he climbed off me and sat down. He proceeded to use every trick in his small
repertoire to get them to laugh again.
And when his oldest sister quietly called his name he would look up at
her and smile straight into the camera.
As they finished up I quickly replaced all the toys on their shelves,
silently offering a prayer (I believe it was, "Thank God that's
over!"). I gathered them all
together and beat a hasty retreat.
Looking
back on it, maybe I didn't quite make it as the woman in Proverbs, but I had to
admit that my children sure pulled through in a pinch. I guess if I am going to make it as a woman
"whose children rise up and call her blessed" it is certainly going
to be easier with children that I can look at and FEEL blessed!
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