I haven’t had a guest blogger in quite some time and am thrilled to have a great one here today. Melissa is a lucky mom of five kiddies who are all under ten years old, and started her how-to video site CloudMom.com when her fifth baby Marielle was born. Having been through the baby years so many times, Melissa was just dying to share all the little things she learned along the way that made her life as a mom easier. Cloudmom is full of tips for expecting moms, new moms, and moms of toddlers and kids. From How to Change a Diaper, to How to Breastfeed, to How to Deal with Tricky In-laws, CloudMom tackles the practical issues moms face alone the way. When she’s not running her site, Melissa spends her time trying to get her children to stop fighting.
And I had to share her hilarious post when I saw the title: How My Children Ruined My Sofa
Here it is! Enjoy! And check out Melissa’s cool site CloudMom and on Facebook and Twitter.
HOW MY CHILDREN RUINED MY SOFA
Mornings are not a peaceful time in any household with kids. In our house, when it comes to my older boys, mornings are a perennial combat zone. We have a pretty set morning schedule mapping out when the boys get up, eat and leave for school. Artfully crafted by yours truly (aka Colonial Control Freak), the schedule would work fine if my boys would fall into line like good little soldiers. But despite their fondness for war-like games and activities, they don’t. Military discipline is not their thing.
Here’s our ideal morning game-plan as it should play out if we were living in the barracks. [Take my grumpy crew, in dire need of haircuts, and insert smiling faces and slicked back hair.]
7:15 – wake up call. Make beds and get dressed
7:20 breakfast (no complaining over the oatmeal)
7:40 brush teeth, put on shoes, and LEAVE THE HOUSE (Thank you!).
And here’s our ACTUAL average morning:
7:15 Wake up. Groan while tossing and turning in bed.
7:20 Throw the top sheet over the bed, leave the blanket rumpled into a ball underneath the sheet. Throw pillow at brother. Button shirt incorrectly (when it’s only off by one button, we let it go).
7:30 Dragging feet, arrive at table frowning with bed head. Throw oneself over table in protest over the breakfast offering.
7:31 Sitting down, the fighting begins. “He touched me.” “No, he touched me.” Hands are tapping thighs and feet are poking at unsuspecting shins under the table. Mom is on the floor trying to figure out whose limb is going for whom, her coffee cold on the kitchen counter.
7:35 Bowls of oatmeal remain untouched.
7:40 Mom starts cajoling, reminding, pleading, and finally, yelling
7:50 The bedroom, kitchen table, and hallway looking like a hurricane hit as my boys exit the apartment, taking the odd swipe at one another while they pull on their untied shoes and open backpacks.
Now, without going through the entire average morning again, let me just say that around 7:40 on a recent morning, one boy (let’s call him boy #1) decided that life was just too dreary to be tolerated, and rather than come into the kitchen, he hurled himself on my favorite sofa in the living room.
Do you have a favorite piece of furniture? You know, the one you tell your kids NOT to sit on? The one you might put a sheet on from time to time lest it gets a stain? You might have some cushions on their too, decorative ones that you labored over, trying to match them with the curtains. On an odd weekend night, you might sit on the sofa with your spouse gingerly holding a glass of wine and thinking, “life is not that bad – we’re good, right? We’ve got nice stuff.”
Boy #1 could have picked our regular, disgusting sofa which has already absorbed sweat, spit-ups, burps, and spills of all sorts, but he did not.
No, he went for the good sofa. And then he decided to randomly get a bloody nose. So at 7:35, enter Mama and her favorite sofa is housing a grumpy, unfed boy who nose has bled ALL OVER THE PLACE.
I looked at him and squinted my eyes and said “really?” “Sorry, Mom” he replied. And he proceeded to sheepishly walk to the kitchen. After settling himself down and steadily eating his oatmeal, while holding a Kleenex to his nose – which miraculous stopped bleeding — he got up and brushed his teeth, put on his shoes and was standing ready at the door to leave on time. Having witnessed the entire incident, boys #2 and #3 followed suit.
So my child ruined my sofa, yet we had ultimately had the best morning of the year thus far. Mama realized that the small messes in life don’t really matter. And boys somehow realized that sometimes, just sometimes, you can make life easier for your Mom.
