What a great start to a Monday morning – the boys slept in which was great for my sleepless night! I got the bed made, the bathroom cleaned, Kiefer & I dressed and fed…I was on a roll! In my generous mood I told Kiefer we were going swimming today – my goal, 9:30 a.m.! (Anything before 10 is a huge accomplishment for us)!
Even when Keyon woke up and pooped in every which direction, I figured, “hey, his bedding and everything touching it probably needs washing anyway!” so we popped it all in the wash, used 50+ wipes to clean him up – didn’t bother with the bath – we were going to the pool anyway!
9:00 a.m…time to feed Keyon, do dishes, pack up the towels & gear and go swimming!...or not quite. Keyon, deciding to bring his sandwich into the living room, and me, putting him in his booster seat to prevent further such actions, had other things to say. And quite loudly too! I left the screaming tantrum child safe in his seat and continued my cleaning – only to come running back to the table at the sound of a giant “CRASH” as Keyon’s plate (why did I give him a glass plate anyway!) gets chucked across the table right into the fish bowl!! Thomas the fish is sliding across the table, water pouring every direction, glass everywhere, Kiefer standing there screaming and Keyon the Turd looking mildly smug and entertained at all the commotion he has created.
“Oh good, Thomas is still flapping around.” I thought as I ran to fill up a glass of water. “Save the fish, Save the fish”. If that fish died, I can only imagine the catastrophe I would have to deal with then! Running back with my cup of water, all I want to do is mop up my floor, thinking, “never let water sit on a wood floor…no, the fish, get the fish, oh no, he’s not moving…” as I attempt to scoop him up with my hands, “Oh good he IS moving…oh no, now he’s on the floor…and not moving…” Kiefer is getting hysterical now “MY FISH! DON’T HURT HIM!” Keyon’s still a little dazed yet quite impressed with his handywork. We got Thomas in the glass, and yay, he is swimming around! He’s already a slightly handicapped before from the LAST time he jumped out of my hands, and he’s not looking any worse for wear. Only time will tell.
Now what…deal with the child or mess… Child. I take his sandwich away, chuck him in his sheetless/beddingless crib for “time out”. He’s got to know this is serious now, afterall, Mom didn’t wash his hands after eating! I run downstairs feeling slightly satisfied with his screams and wails of a punishment being served well.
Check on Thomas – he’s still moving. Grabbing my two remaining dish towels, I throw them onto the puddle on the floor. They don’t even make a dent in the ocean of a floor. “Oh well”, I remember that Thomas needs his water conditioned, so I pull out a vase and the water conditioner while Kiefer freaks out, not knowing where Thomas is. I get Thomas’s water ready and then pour the poor fish through the fishing net and dump him in his new home. Maybe I should feed him too. That always works with my boys.
“How on earth does this thing get so dirty and smelly!” I think as piece by piece I pick up the fish pebbles from the broken fish bowl I’d just cleaned 3 days ago, then sift through them all with my fingers, looking for any loose pieces of glass, and wondering if I will ever get a medal for sacrificing my fingers for the sake of a fish.
“Do we still have to go to the pool?” I consider as I run upstairs for a third towel. Now my whole kitchen smells like a stinkin’ sea. My floor has just moved up on the to-do list from “should wash the floor sometime” to “How bad will this smell in 3 hours?” Kiefer asks me “What happened?” What, you mean what happened! Like you don’t know? I check Thomas again. He’s not moving. Just laying on the bottom of the vase. Poor guy – I shake it around a bit to make him move. He’s good.
Keyon is now happily playing in his bed, calling for his puppy, for his soother…I’m not impressed that he has forgotten his crime and punishment, so I take him out and give him a serious talkin’ to, to remind him of the deed he has done and elicit some kind of remorse. He asks me for a sandwich. The one I took from his hand and threw on the table that is now sopping wet and in a bazillion pieces. I should’ve just let him keep it. “No” I tell him, “You’re in trouble”. He cries. “Good” I figure as I wring out my towels. Now he is playing happily and asking me for help. “NO!” I tell him again, “You’re still in big trouble!” He finds something else to play with. On my way upstairs to dig through the laundry and find a clean washcloth, I innocently mention that Daddy is working downstairs…and when the boys ask if they can go see him, I say nothing and am quite happy to hear their little feet pitter downstairs and Keyon say “Thomas! Smash!” and Kiefer, just to be sure Dad understands, chimes in “Keyon is in trouble!” I smile, secretly satisfied as Matt extracts the entire story and gives his idolizer another talking to, starting with “You don’t hit Thomas!” A child with no idea of consequences to his actions and multiple tantrums..maybe he will learn soon.
I feel justice is served as I finish picking the last of the glass off the table, wash it down, and then think of the extra load of laundry I have to do now. I sigh as I wipe the last puddle off the ground, noticing how dirty the felt floor savers are on the legs of the chairs, I wonder what else they have soaked up besides smelly fish water, and add that to my to-do list as well, along with “buy a new fish bowl”. Now I have to take out the garbage – I was hoping to get at least 3 more hours out of that bag, but that broken glass filled it up the rest of the way, so now I’m going to have to tie it up and bring it out to the garage. It’s now 9:45, and my to-do list is now longer than when I started, and I still have to find the energy to walk to the pool, and make it back in time for lunch and naps. Oh yeah, and feed my son a new breakfast.