Sometimes being the mother of young children brings little surprises that you really could have done without. Right now, for instance, I find Barbies everywhere. And I do mean everywhere. The dishwasher, the toilet, and even having a party with furniture, food and all right in front of my kitchen sink where I am sure to kill myself on them if I don't happen to look down and notice. Basically, the darn dolls are everywhere except where they should be. Just in case you wonder, Sophia is the culprit of this particular phenomenon.
There was the time when Bria was really interested in the contents of my jewelry box. One day, unbeknownst to me, she took every ring that was in there and squirreled them away in her underwear drawer for her very own. She decided to wear what she thought was the prettiest one to go swimming. While we were swimming, I noticed it on her finger (how it didn't fall off and sink to the bottom of the pool undetected I'll never know!), and freaked out a little bit. It was my mother's original wedding ring, which she had had reset with a ruby for me when she got a new setting for her diamond. Probably the most special ring I own with the exception of my own wedding ring.
Then there's the time that Chloe cut Sophia's hair, just when it had started to grow out enough to wear anything but headbands in it.
Oh, and the time Bria drew cartoon faces on my Willow Tree figurines with a permanent marker, because it spooked her that they are faceless. I was pregnant at the time, so that really incurred the wrath of the beast that lies dormant within me.
Recently, Chloe has taken to drawing her masterpieces exactly where she shouldn't. Like, on her dresser drawers, for instance. When she was 2, I could be a bit more patient with this, but she is 5 now and I find it utterly unacceptable. I also found the words "I love my DaD" inscribed on her bedroom door the other day. Perhaps I wouldn't have been quite so angry if it had said "I love my MoM" instead, but alas, it wasn't to be.
I have plenty of stories, many of which can be found on this blog, but I'll just give you the most recent little surprise I found. Last week, after I had washed my hair, I picked up my brush and began to brush my tresses. It seemed like it wasn't working very well, so I looked at the brush more carefully and found that toothpaste (of the kid variety) was smeared all over the bristles. Well that's just great. I had no time to wash my hair again right then, and so I did my best to pull it up into a ponytail (which it is just barely long enough to do at this point). If nothing else, toothpaste makes a pretty good hair gel. And I smelled like bubblegum. Gotta look at the positives, right? Especially since once I did wash my hair, I found that toothpaste is not nearly as easy to wash out as gels made specifically for hair styling.
I suppose it all helps me learn patience, which is something I generally struggle with. A lot. I also suppose that it gives me plenty of chances to teach my children about what is acceptable and what is not, about how to clean up after their messes and about how to respect others' property. In the end, these experiences teach all of us something. And even if the kids don't actually learn anything despite my efforts, at least I learn to be a better mother.
Besides, if I'm going to freak out over toothpaste on my hairbrush now, how on earth will I react to something a little more serious? Like wrecking the car, for instance.
Yeah, I need to calm down while I still have the chance.