Night Owl

My sweet Night Owl. I also thought this photo was appropriate to post given the new blog background!

Critters

I guess I’d better prepare to constantly have critters around the house, but I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it.

One of my earliest memories is my Dad bringing a garter snake into the house when I was about four years old. I recall my brother (five) and Dad thinking it was hilarious scaring my mom with the snake, but I distinctly remember being aware of my own feelings – fear, creepiness, and plain confusion as to why in the world anyone would pick up a snake, let alone bring one in the house.

Boys, boys. Just two days ago when we were moving out of the rental house, Cubby picked up a dead roach and was holding it in his hand. (It may have ended up in his mouth, had I not horrifyingly screamed and shaken it from his curious fingers.) Tigger and Tadpole are frequently trying to catch lizards, and the bug jar from Tadpole’s “Science Box” quite often has a multi-legged creature dizzily wandering in it.

I was immensely proud of myself for helping capture the baby frog that was hopping down our hallway after a Florida summer afternoon downpour a few weeks ago: a major milestone in my getting used to embracing ALL of God’s creation. I tried not to let my bug-happy kids see the fear in my eye – fear, I suppose, that the thing was going to pounce on me and start munching off my nose and ears.

All this was brought to my mind again when my eldest received to his extreme delight an Ant Farm for his fourth birthday. After all, who needs another truck or car when you can harvest your very own farm of insects in your home? I know the critters are contained, but truthfully, the very thought of purposefully having ants in my house is a bit, well, disconcerting. I don’t know much about Ant Farms, but they better not decide to cleverly tunnel out and make their Great Escape into my kitchen.

I dread the day that one of my own creepy-crawly obsessed boys picks up an oversized beetle or harmless snake and brings him in to the house to scare Mom.

I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.

The One-Handed Mom

Back-to-back babies – especially with colicky ones – and the various stages of clinginess and separation anxiety that they’ve each gone through, leaves very little time when I am not holding or carrying around at least one of my offspring.

Which means that for the last four years I have basically been a one-handed mom.

Most new moms become pretty adept at doing a variety of things with one hand, and with four straight years of babies under my belt, I feel confident boasting that I am now practically an expert.

Washing dishes? Clean as the dishwashing machine would do. Whipping up a batch of homemade muffins? As appealing and tasty as the bakery’s. Cooking and setting the table for dinner? Done before you can say “Speedy Gonzalez.” Cleaning the toilets? You could eat off of them, I didn’t miss a speck of bacteria. Folding five loads of laundry? Neater than Martha Stewart could fold 'em.

Want me to help a kid on the potty, put on another’s pair of socks, change the third’s nappy, and pay bills online all while holding a two-month old? Not a problem. Because when you have babies, that’s what you do – you cuddle and calm your little guy in one arm and learn to do everything else with your one free hand.

And if you’re wondering, of COURSE I type this blog with one hand!