As I sit to type this, my 18 month old is being entertained by the 4 year old, who is throwing Boggle pieces at the ceiling vajh./,.
Sorry, one just landed on my hand. Anyway, he is attempting to roll an ‘E’, at which point he will be ‘the winner’.
It’s fine, really, since the Boggle frame is filled with yogurt from the last time I tried to blog with them awake. And no one I know wants to play anyway, since they are sore losers too busy.
So I take a look around my house and I think, how in the HELL does anyone with children ever get anything done??
I realize I have different standards of cleanliness than most. My canned goods can generally be found under the dining table or in the toy boxes. Hey, they make good stacking toys and I bet they contain way less lead than the FDA limit. My Sam’s Club-sized supply of paper towels is balled up in a trash bag because number one son unrolled them all down the stairs. And there is a chip clip attached to a tricycle with a removeable bra strap. Also? Half of a muffin fell on the steps the other day. It’s still there.
Even though I would actually prefer to live in a spare, open loft with books organized by color and size and no visible clutter, I accept that I will never be that person. I am a slacker / hoarder trapped in the body of an obsessive- compulsive neat freak, and trust me – it’s not pretty in here. So since I can’t have my space be perfect, I let it go completely.
Right now, the toddler has moved on from the Boggle tossing championships, and is happily taking handfuls of dried beans from a container and putting them into a smaller container. And by ‘putting’, I mean taking his handful of beans and somewhere in the vicinity of ‘over’ the small container – letting them go. And missing. Every last one of them. And this is a-okay with me.
Because first of all, I was never going to have time to soak those beans overnight and boil them so the whatever-that-enzyme-thingy-is-that-you-have-to-boil-out-of-the-beans is gone. And then cook them for 87 hours. And second, I get to write.
And before you ask about that picture – yes, that is my bread machine on the floor. If I can’t clean up that muffin, you really think I have time to put flour and stuff in there??
Anyway, now I have to go. The four year old came in, saw the beans and said, “YAY, YAY!!” And now?
It’s raining beans.