It was unbelievable. Both boys emerged from the basement with paint on their feet. Luckily I caught them before they tracked it all over the hardwood, but I was dreading what I’d find in the basement. We are re-painting their playroom and re-carpeting, so it has been off limits to them. While folding clothes upstairs it got a little too quiet and sure enough, they were up to no good. They had poured paint into the tray from the can (very resourceful), unwrapped the roller and paintbrush, and “painted” the walls in a very chunky, dribbley way. I was furious. My fault for leaving it out, I know. But I still really lost my cool.
A few hours later I found myself getting choked up as I watched Jack march into his junior kindergarten class through a human arch made by the fifth graders at Richards Elementary. Amazing. How do women handle it? I felt like smacking him one minute and the next I was proud and sad to see the little guy growing up. What a rollercoaster of emotion.
Lately all I can think of is Sister Beck’s talk when she said that we should be the best homemakers in the world and that it is our role to nurture our children. Why then, is it so difficult?! There must be a reason it keeps coming to mind…
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