…it happened. Yet again, it happened.
Just yesterday on July 20th my children wrecked the kitchen so bad that it took around 4 hours to clean up, with my help I might add, and that doesn’t include the floor or fridge. Of which I did the floor partially that night and then finishing the next morning. And the fridge was finished by the kids and I in the early afternoon the next day.
You must think I’m one neglectful mother for my children to be making such huge messes all the time. But really I’m not, I swear. My children are just devious.
This time around my girls climbed into bed with me after breakfast and Aurora (my oldest child) called out saying it was Lazy Day. Now, I don’t know about you and your family but I take Lazy Days seriously. I even have a “Nama’stay in Bed” t-shirt. And all the major chores were caught up on. I mean we had just deep cleaned the kitchen, done the floors sans vacuuming (the belt broke and we we’re waiting on a new one from Bissell), all the laundry was done albeit not put away (I still call this a win.) so I was like, yeah sure, why not? Let’s have a Lazy Day for once. Everyone deserves a little vacation, right?
I was lazing about resting in bed as the girls came and went. I saw my son coming and going as he pleased in the hallway. So I didn’t think they were up to anything really. Boy was I wrong.
Apparently it started with Tobias (my only son and middle child) making eggs after he had cereal for breakfast. Not so bad. Only one dish to clean up. It was an hour to hour and a half later that the real damage started happening. I don’t know which of them did it so I’m gonna just say my/the children.
The children decided to start cooking and shall we say, experimenting? They decided that peanut butter was a good base for their experiments. So they went about concocting peanut butter and vanilla frosting…like three tubs of it. Oh yes. And they whipped up a nice entrée of diced carrots in peanut butter. They used at least four dozen (!!!) eggs during this creative process. Ah, but don’t be fooled by this creativity, my oldest did have a conventionality moment in which she tried her best at a boxed brownie and orange jello.
And remember, they were all fooling me by coming and going throughout this whole process. So I erroneously presupposed that everything was going swimmingly.
By the time I found the results of their inventive skills, due to my youngest daughter Gaia telling me about “the seeds”, my kitchen was long gone. These “seeds” really were seeds, millions of them. And I do not distort this number. My children, I guess in their denouement, expressed themselves by ripping open a bag of flax seeds from my pantry and frolicked every which way while sprinkling these Lilliputian things far and wide.
I found my kitchen, including the inside of my fridge somehow, covered in what looked like millions of unfed deer ticks. And that didn’t appertain to the rest of the mess such as cooked eggs that smelt of garlic, peanut butter everywhere, just a bowl of raw whipped eggs just sitting on the floor for god only knows why or all of the dishes used. It took three (!!!) loads running the dishwasher and then doing some by hand to get everything done.
This job was so extensive that after about two hours my kids were starting to give up and lose focus. Two hours of cleaning is a lot for children. It’s a lot of cleaning for me! So I gave them a small break. Then, I got in there with them. There was simply no way this job was going to get finished without my help in some way. At the bare minimum I would have needed to do the floors anyway. So I jumped into the fray helping the kids out by doing some dishes to re-encourage them. I was a little worried about them not learning their lesson or thinking that Momma is always gonna be there to help you out. But then I figured, they already know they did something wrong. And I’m sure they’ve learned their lesson about taking responsibility after two hours of cleaning on their own. And as far as me always being their for them, I might not always be, but right now I am so let them use the resource.
Anyway, another two hours later and we finally got to a stopping place. We had another load of dishes ready to load up and go and I would start on the floors that night. So, as a motivation or encouragement benefit I told them I would take them to either McDonald’s or Burger King playplace so go to BK we did. We even got ice cream cones. They played for a good hour and a half.
And then we went to the grocery store. That was a royal fucking nightmare. Monday, July 23rd is Aurora’s 9th birthday. So she gets birthday balloons. And we do this every. single. fucking. time. The younger two children demand balloons but it’s not their birthday so they don’t get any. And then the tears and hysterics ensue and the classic “I HATE YOU!” Only mine go on with “I’M LEAVING AND NEVER COMING BACK!!!” says the 6 year old Gaia. I just stood there and asked her how she was going to survive. Who was going to feed her, if she was going to rely on the kindness of strangers who really aren’t so kind, etc. I ended with, “You’re six. Now get in the minivan.” It worked. I mean, she huffed and puffed and said she hated me but in the end she did in fact get in the minivan. Then home we went where I took care of the groceries while the kids got ready for bed.
I started on the kitchen floor by sweeping up all of those god awful flax seeds and then switched out laundry and called it a night.
TO BE CONTINUED…