take it for a spin

I want a pretty laundry room. Pinterest told me I should… and could. Colorful walls, a delicate chandelier, granite counter, coordinating baskets and custom artwork. Pinterest has brainwashed me to believe I should be shoveling mounds of clothing in and out of machines in a state of luxury.

And, frankly, I like that idea. I mean, I am averaging 1,000 loads of laundry each year. I don’t think it’s too much to ask to liven up a daily drudgery. So, when Philip presented the idea of removing the bulky stands beneath our machines and replacing the tops with a beautiful countertop, I was intrigued.

My laundry room could look like this…

laundry room 1

Or, this…

laundry room2

Or, even this…

laundry room3

I could do laundry in pretty. {Oh, how my wish list has changed.}

But, then, I snapped back to reality. I realized that without the stands, little hands could reach all those irresistible buttons and easily crawl into open machines. This could only end in disaster. Horrifying thoughts of Austin shoving little brother into the washing machine flashed through my mind. Oh, no. No. No. No. This would not work. Knowing our boys, this would absolutely happen.

As time has passed, the thought of ditching the stands occasionally creeps back into my head. Usually, it’s when I’m waist deep in stinky little boy clothing. But, as of last week, that thought is squelched for good.

A few mornings ago, Austin “slept in.” And, when I say “slept in,” I mean he came into our bed at 6 a.m. and continued to sleep soundly with his arm in my face until 8 a.m. He even slept through Everett’s wailing grand entry into the mix slightly before 7 a.m. This is considered sleeping in at our house.

Anyway, because extra sleep rarely never happens here, this threw off our entire schedule of getting out the door on time for Mother’s Day Out. So, we scrambled and hurried, and I did my best to make sure everyone was presentable.

Austin was moving extra slow that morning, so I helped him along. I spent two minutes getting him ready. TWO minutes. When I finished, I scurried off to find Everett who had quickly and quietly left the scene. This is where I found him…


TWO MINUTES! Two minutes, and my one-year-old has sprinted across the house and climbed halfway into the washing machine. I mean, really? Are you kidding me?

He was a shove away from being sent through a wash cycle by Austin. Sheesh. Never getting rid of the stands. In fact, we may need to investigate double stands. Do they make those? Of course, knowing our children, they’ll probably still scale it like a rock climber.

On belay.

splat went that


We spent Saturday morning at the arboretum with the kids and Philip’s parents, who were in from out of town. The day was beautiful. The sun was shining, a slight breeze kept the heat at bay, and the colors of the flowers were vibrant. We followed the trails in and out of perfectly manicured landscapes and fantasized about our own yards looking the same.

Not far ahead on our route, two older couples had stalled in the walkway. They appeared to be studying something in their path as one of the women lectured. It was a caterpillar – black, fuzzy, and long. Apparently, it was notable in its nature. The woman had dubbed herself guardian of this fragile creature and marked her post. She was determined to see this caterpillar safely across the trail.

Cue Austin. Austin and I brought up the rear of our own little group. I worked on corralling him along the path as he skipped, zig zagged, and took every opportunity to hang over the barrier separating us from the creek. We reached the convoy surrounding the caterpillar, and Austin quickly maneuvered around them and decided to make a swift side step back in.

“Watch out for the…” SPLAT.

Silence filled the air, followed by horrified expressions and subtle giggles. Austin glances at the little group as if to say, “You’re welcome,” and, then, marches along his way. The sweet innocence of a child.

I looked down at the splat, smiled sheepishly, avoided eye contact, and unsuccessfully attempted to stifle my laughter. Oops.

I half expect to see a “Caterpillar X-ing” and, perhaps, a few “Save the Caterpillars” signs next time we visit the arboretum in honor of the one stuck to the bottom of my child’s shoe.

But, the truth is, I’m kind of impressed with how effortlessly he smashed a bug almost as long as his own foot. It looks like this Momma will never have to squish an insect ever again. Win.


i see your hiney

Tuesdays are Mother’s Day Out days for Austin. And, after MDO, we always meet a couple of Austin’s friends for a few minutes of extra play. It’s become a little ritual. We can’t leave without waiting for his buds. It’s really pretty adorable. So, like every Tuesday, the kids ran up and down, over and around in the small field at the church, while us Mommas chatted away.

And, then I looked up. There is Austin. There he is, peeing in public. Pants at his ankles. Bare butt and all. In the grass in front of the church. With everyone picking up their kids from Mother’s Day Out. Oh, and let’s not forget the soccer practice that was being held 20 feet away from him.

I die.

I raced toward him, as he proudly grinned at me, continuing to water the grass as I ran. I promptly pull his undies up to cover his hiney, but, I’m forced to stop midway. It’s still flowing.

“Stop peeing, Austin. Austin! Stop peeing!”

He glances at me briefly, then returns his attention to the task at hand. I’m immediately regretting ever letting him “water” the tree in our backyard.

I had two options at this point. Waste no time, pull up his pants, deal with wet undies and a clean up at the car, OR… Just let it go. Yeah… I let him go.

So, I waited, for what felt like a good five minutes, which, obviously, was more like an additional five seconds. When he finally turned it off, I yanked his jeans back on. And, then, proceeded to laugh hysterically while he skipped away. This was probably not the most appropriate response for when one’s kid urinates in public in the grass of the church. But, sometimes humor is just way better than reality. We may have to revisit this talk later. Parenting fail.

But, the good news is I didn’t have to worry about dragging Austin into a public restroom while we ran errands, where I may or may not have had to be a human step stool for him depending on how he was feeling about the automatic flushers that day. That should make up for the prior public embarrassment, right?