It'll be a Miracle

Nina and Jocelyn turned 10 months old this week, and I've decided it will be a miracle if they make it to their first year. We've had some mishaps recently, mostly courtesy of Samuel and Ethan, that make me close my eyes and shake my head. Will they survive this minefield of preschool creativity and activity they were born into?   About three and a half years ago, I learned a very important lesson as a mother that I still sometimes forget.  Samuel was very efficiently crawling about this time, and I was lounging on the couch, so proud of myself that he was entertaining himself on the floor.  I thought I'd read a page or two of the mystery novel I was working through when Sonja, our dog a the time, came sauntering into the living room.  Sonja was a completely black lab mix and suddenly she had little white dusty hand prints all over her body.  Where in the world did she acquire those?  I jumped up out of my lazy state, and looked over the back of the couch.  Samuel had crawled into the kitchen, opened a cabinet, pulled out the powdered sugar, and managed to tear open the Ziploc bag.  Of course he proceeded to spread it all over a large sprawl of the kitchen, give Sonja a good pat-down, and had now discovered that it tasted wonderful!

The little monkey had powdered sugar all over his face and hands and was shoving powdered sugar in his mouth as fast as he could.  This event was when I first learned the, "When all is silent, something is wrong" rule of parenting.  I don't always remember this lesson.  Why?  Because a second rule often overrides the first rule.  The second rule is, "If kids are entertaining themselves, take a break!"  The second rule sometimes gets me in trouble and leaves me with extra chores.  Add to that two helpful preschoolers who want to entertain their sisters and introduce them to the world as they know it, and life gets interesting.

Two weeks ago, I had finished feeding the kids lunch.  The boys were playing happily in the living room with dinosaurs and the girls were digging into the toddler puzzles.  I thought - whew - finally time for me to eat!  Instead of sitting at the table where I could see the children, I leaned over the counter and perused a Pottery Barn magazine and munched.  The kids were quiet, but I kept eating and reading.  A few minutes later, I freaked, "Why are there bits of my spider plant all over the couch?!  Who destroyed my plant!?"  Samuel reports, "Ethan did it."  Ethan says, "No I didn't.  Triceratops and Brachiosaurus did it.  They were hungry herbivores."  Sure they were.  Meanwhile, Nina and Jocelyn's four little hands were stuffing decapitated plant in their mouths as fast as they possibly could.  We've kept the mangled spider plant and are nursing it back to health, but the jade plant moved away with the philosophy that one less plant equals one more year for my daughters.

Samuel and Ethan have discovered the incredible thing called a knot, which they exercise with their jump ropes on their stuffed animals and dinos.  I'm putting laundry away in the boys' room when Samuel runs up to me with his excited voice, "Mommy!  I saved Jocelyn!  She was all tied up and almost fell against the railing!"  I respond, "Samuel, how did Jocelyn get tied up?"  He says with bright eyes, "She wrapped the jump rope around her legs and tied a knot!"  I smelled a tall tale.  "Jocelyn wrapped the jump rope around her legs?  All by herself?"  He says, a little more cautious this time, "Uh-huh!  I saw her do it."  Raised eyebrow from me.  Downcast look from Samuel, and then his confession, "No mommy, I tied her up."  Then we had to have the conversation about how ropes and babies just don't mix.  Our babies need to continue to breathe.

A third rule I'm finding as a mother is "Just accept the chaos."  This rule exists because in absolutely no way, will my two hands ever, ever be as fast as the eight little hands running around my house.  It seems that no matter how hard I try to keep up, keep everyone safe, how much sleep I lose, or how much I try to settle them before I go do something such as dishes, chaos surround us.  I fight it, or I accept it.  I'm learning slowly to accept because motherhood is less frustrating that way.

Chaos is around us everywhere these days.  Whether we go to the store, try out the park, are eating breakfast, or just putting on our shoes.  One night I bathed the girls and dressed them in their PJs.  I put Samuel and Ethan in the tub and checked on the girls in their bedroom where they are banging on their leapfrog table and baby piano.  I decided I would run downstairs and fluff a load of laundry to fold (yes, we have a LOT of laundry).  I literally walk to the stairs, shut the stairs gate, walk down the stairs when I hear, "Mommy!  Mommy!  Help!"  In the time in took me to get to the bottom of the stairs, Nina had crawled from her room, into the bathroom and had flipped herself into the boys' bath.  The boys had swooped her up and and were holding her up on the edge of the tub.  Nina was soaking wet and had eyes the size of silver dollars.  She was so freaked out and I was so proud of my boys.  My ten month old babies can't seem to swim.

See?  See what I mean?  It really will be a miracle if Nina and Jocelyn make it to their first year!  They have a mother who can barely get a sandwich in her mouth and two very helpful and creative brothers.  Amidst our efforts to be good parents to the boys by having fires and supporting art through an art easel we've suffered in the baby department.  Nina and Jocelyn have both eaten charcoal out of the chiminea.  They liked it, and we fight them every time they are on the back deck.  Both girls have sucked on paint brushes from the art easel.  There is a reason they make things like children's paint, crayons and markers non-toxic.  Those reasons are named Nina and Jocelyn.  Samuel has tried to feed them carrots and sunflower seeds because he likes them, so why wouldn't they?  Ethan has turned the water on in the bathtub so they could go fishing.  Samuel has let the babies on the back deck because they like the fresh air, despite their other love of charcoal.  Ethan has been a very good sharer and passed his play-doh to Jocelyn and was very impressed when she ate it and she liked it.

Only two more months?  Will they make it?  Or will they be poisoned by plant, folded up in the dishwasher, drowned in the tub, choked by charcoal?  Maybe tied in rope, or buried in toys?  It truly will be a miracle when August 22nd rolls around.