Sunday, June 30, 2013

Messy mess tribute to my mom

Today started early. Like 5:00 am early. Nell was up, hungry and ready to play. I tried to make the best of it and sat her in her seat with some watermelon and a piece of bread while I prepped a batch of my favorite pancake mix and did a load of dishes (I have a horrible habit of avoiding dishes Saturday evening, and then hating myself for it Sunday morning).

It was nice to already be out of bed when Reid woke up at 6:30. When I heard his door handle turn I went and knelt down at the end of the hall, arms stretched out and ready for a big hug. He ran right to me, and I quickly put him on the kitchen table with his watermelon and blueberry pancakes. Great mom moment, right?

Well, fast forward 15 minutes and I'm throwing out cuss words when I hear one of my glass cups break when I shut the dishwasher door. Yup, I cussed loud and clear before 7:00 am on a Sunday.

Ben was in the front room, politely asking Reid to go back into the kitchen and pick up his milk cup that had fallen on the floor when he climbed down off the table (no worries, it is a lidded cup, so no spills, just a sippy cup on the floor). Reid's reaction, as if out nowhere, was to grunt angrily -- words we could not understand at all. He moaned in frustration as he picked up his cup and brought it over to me. Ben was trying to correct his attitude from the hallway when I simply looked at Reid and asked "Why are you so upset buddy?"

To which he responded in the angriest grunt of all "My milk is a messy mess!"

Not sure how Ben wanted to correct this clear over-reaction to a small spill, I glanced up at my husband who was clearly trying his hardest not to burst out in laughter. Knowing we weren't going to use this moment to correct rotten attitudes, I smiled at Reid and asked "Well, who taught you to get so angry anytime there is a messy mess to clean up?" and I took the milk cup out of his hands and placed it in the fridge. At which point he slapped me on the back as best he could, to clearly say "You did mommy!"

Ben could suppress his laughter no longer. He ruptured, and then Reid roared in laughter. I returned to my dishwasher to retrieve any stray pieces of glass and asked in the most innocent voice I could muster, "Well who taught mommy to get so mad when her house is a messy mess?"

I think Ben thought I was serious, because he didn't hesitate at all to tell us exactly who taught me that! But I will say, that after spending 30 minutes last night reading tearful essays of women who traced their image problems back to their mothers, I am more than grateful that my mom taught me my value has nothing to do with my looks, even if the downside is a short temper when it is time to clean up.
See that tiny bit of paint on his thumb? Yeah, he couldn't paint until I cleaned it off. Good thing he didn't notice that giant pink streik in his hair!

1 comment:

Scott and Claudia said...

Yes, your mother truly did not like messy messes! I have mellowed somewhat with the messy messes and the short temper, but not with those cuss words! They just seem to get worse with age!!! And, by the way, I always thought and still do think you are beautiful inside and out! Love ya, Mom
Now go clean up your messy messes!

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