Sorry Mother

For a change my layout below and my story seem to coincide. Poor Indy (poor me) had a rough haul last weekend.

It has been years since I really blew my stack and last Saturday I did. I had asked and asked for the kids to pick their toys up in the living room. We had planned on a movie night with pizza picnic on the living room floor. But after I ordered the pizza I walked out to see them both laying on the floor... doing nothing. Their excuse was they were too tired.

While I blew worse than Mount St. Helen. I sent them to bed. But then I thought about it more and made them come back out and sit at the end of the hall where they could watch me putting all their toys into garbage bags. The Princess did not say a word but the tears just kept rolling down her checks. Indy cried and howled about his toys and how he wanted them, but wasn't willing to stop crying to put them up.

After getting everything picked up and the living room vacuumed, I gave them another opportunity to put their toys up. The Princess quickly jumped on the chance (she was told that she could only put away her toys from the garbage bag) and within minutes everything was put away and she was cleaning up their bedroom to boot. She got kudos and to pick out the movie for movie night.

Indy was still in bed when the pizza arrived and I called him out to eat his while Pan and Zoe were trying to figure out if the black spot was from the movie or on the projector. He refused so in bed he got to stay. Fixing the Princess', Pan's and my plates, we started the movie and eating. From the bedroom, we could hear "help me," "help me". I went back to see what the problem was. He wanted to come out. "Not until you put up your toys." Back to crying. Back to the movie. Soon... "help me," "help me."

"What is the matter now?"

"I want you to sleep wit me."

"No way Hosea."

Leave room AND close the door.

At this point this has been going on for more than an hour. Constant crying, no stopping...

"Help me," "help me."

Back to the bedroom... "Come on out."

"Please hold me?"

Cradling him, I carried him back to the living room, sat him down and went to fix his dinner.

The next day when I told them to pick up, they were at it pronto. Indy singing "Clean, clean, clean, clean." Guess something got through.

But Sunday night proved to be as much a challenge for Indy as Saturday had been. His mommy got home early from work and had the evening to spend with him. They were playing on her computer when he started to jump up and down on the bed, breaking the prong to the power strip off in the wall.

I was getting up to get something to drink when I saw him in the kitchen repeating over and over again "Sorry Mother." Yep it sounded like he was capitalizing both words. Now at the time I did not know about the power strip. All I could see was him taking a pitcher of Koolaid out of the fridge that was nearly as big as he was. Rushing to help, he dropped it just as I got there. Koolaid all over the floor and in the fridge. Out comes mommy, chewing him out all over again. And the mantra starts again "Sorry Mother."

While she is cleaning up the pitcher (plastic, thank goodness), I'm cleaning up the floor and refrigerator. When I look up, Indy is trying to pass me when he slips on the mess. Legs fly in the air and he lands on his arm. His mother turns around and all she sees is him lying on the floor and starts in again. He gets up, runs to the back with me in pursuit asking to see his arm. My daughter is right behind me asking what had happened. When I told her that he had slipped and wasn't playing around this time, she scooped him up in her arms and forgave him all his transgressions that night.

And while the actual details of the night may one day dim in my memory, hearing him say "Sorry Mother, Sorry Mother," over and over again never will.

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