Mommy Moments

I've several anecdotes of mommyhood that have been niggling at me to record them here in cyberspace. These have taken place over the last two weeks or so, during the illness, etc.

Moment 1: Sleep Talking

In the middle of the night during the flu weeks, I heard S. cry out. I dragged myself from my bed to her ailing side. "What is it, Sweet Pea?" I asked.

"I have to throw up!"

"Here's the bowl." I hand it to her.

She ignores the bowl, and whimpers and cries some more.

"I'm hungry!!"

"Here's some crackers." I hand her a saltine, which she also ignores. However, she makes smacking sounds with her lips.

"They make us wipe our bums before they launch the rocket," she explains.

"WHAT?!" I respond.

More insistently, S declares, "They make us wipe our bums before they launch the rocket!"

I laugh my head off, write this exchange down in my notebook, and return to bed.
She has no recollection of this incident.

Moment 2: Sleep Talking, Part II
Two nights later, I go in to check on S. to be sure she has water, take her temperature, etc. She looks up at me, glazed expression fixed on her young face. "It's tough on the river," she tells me sadly.

Later on that same evening, she was rather upset. I questioned her, and she told me "there's not enough room for you and me in this [Kleenex] box!" No, my dear, there surely isn't!


Moment 3: Won the Battle; Not So Sure About the War


Last night I told the kids I was going to take a bath; please practice your piano while I'm in there; THEN, and only then, may you watch The Little Rascals on video.


I finished my bath at 9:00 p.m. I saw all of S's piano books still on the piano in front of D's. I knew she had practiced. Both kids, however, were watching videos in the living room. "D, did you practice?" (knowing full well he hadn't). "Um, noooo..."


I proceeded to turn off the TV, informed him that he would not be watching any TV the following day, and to get to the piano immediately. Which he did, STOMP-STOMP-STOMP. Cue: "Intervention" Time! After administering the discipline, I was treated to a brief (ahem, very brief) lecture from my dear son about how I, as a mom, always get my own way!! So, intervention time--a second time. He flopped his bottom down on the piano bench, folded his arms, and, as Kipling would say, behaved as a camel would ("HUMPH!")

Third intervention... this time from Dad. There was crying, oh yes, precious, but no submission. After the FOURTH bout of disciplinary action, back at the piano, D choked, gagged, and said "I have to throw up!"

Unsympathetic, we told him to get to the bathroom. He did make it, thankfully. After washing hands, face and mouth, we told him to get back to the bench and practice.

"WHAT?!!?!! I threw up and YOU DON"T EVEN CARE!!!"

(Nope!)

Finally, ONE HOUR LATER at 10:00 p.m., he had finished the --three-- songs he had to practice. There was forced compliance, but the rebellion remained. We had a threesome discussion after the fact, reminding him that his behavior was not only dishonoring to his parents, but also dishonoring to God. We reassured him of our love for him, and prayed with him that he would make the right choices in the future.


Oh, and this morning, he sat down at the piano-- without being told-- and completed all his work.

So, something good came out of last night's exhausting mommy (and daddy) moment!