Wednesday, July 18, 2012

mothering is a battlefield

The big kids were all doing math, Benjamin was napping, so I took three of my rowdy, little boys outside to blow bubbles, including the 2.75 year old. To some, three rowdy, little boys would be a battle. To me, it was like swimming in a lake of still waters. 

We tried to blow bubbles in the baby's face. "No, don't blow bubbles in the baby's face. The soap could burn his eyes!" ... "It's not soap Mom, it's bubbles!" (silly momma)

We got the hang of blowing gently, which created a thousand bubbles at once
We kept losing our bubble stick in the bubble bottle.

We puffed our cheeks big.

Then I decided we should put the bubbles up. They were half Benjamin's bubbles after all, and we should save some for him.

The 2.75 year old decided this was not such a good idea. And we battled over the blue bubble bottle. 

And the 2.75 year old won. 

And Benjamin's bubbles got dumped out on the driveway. 

And I stood there defeated. 

And realized that even with only 1/3 of my children ... if that 1/3 includes the 2.75 year old ... there is no such thing as still waters. Only a battlefield.

These wise (accessible) words for moms are on the way. My new battle plan.

"I firmly believe that any man's finest hour, the greatest fulfillment of all that he holds dear, is that moment when he has worked his heart out in a good cause and lies exhausted on the field of battle - victorious." - Vince Lombardi