On Killing Bugs, Cleaning Bananas And Keeping Blogs

My blog has lacked greatly of posts -- even I admit that. But, to every thing there is a reason. (Or is it a season?) The reason for this blogless season is twofold: I have two children.

And that should explain it.

At times, I will be quietly tapping away at the computer with my brain swaying from the intense blog moment that hit me when suddenly, the silence behind me in the livingroom will impose on my nostalgic blog brain and invade the time I thought was mine.

The blog moment will be gone then and I'll wonder what I was just doing.

A glance over my shoulder and a "Landon-what-are-you-doing" will extract me out of my chair faster than a dentist can pull a tooth.

For, unbeknownst to this mother that I am, my children had seized this blog moment for a bit of their own creativity. Although, for some reason their brain storms tend to procure a lot more attention to details in cleaning up afterwards that sometime I wonder how worthwhile the creative part is.

On this particular afternoon, both of the little folks had agreed on an exciting project. With the full cup of milk I had just given Janae, both kiddos enjoyed the thrill of watching it drip and spray all over the couch while Landon thoroughly squeezed and sprayed it. It provided several minutes of complete silence as they stood their in awe at the abilities this simple plastic cup could perform.

Drip by drip a soon-to-be soured puddle of milk seeped into the cushion of the couch.

Instead of hitting "publish post" for my currant blog, I just hit "save as draft." It seems I've been doing that more often lately which I guess is fine -- it's not like I lose long hours of thought -- but so many people don't understand the efforts I do put into blogging when weeks go by and no new posts appear on here. If only you knew of all the ones behind the scenes.

Back to the squeezed milk...

I grabbed a rag and started to scrub the couch, making certain to collect the cup first. There's nothing like trying to eliminate the effects of a problem if you don't eliminate the actual problem in the first place.

Landon and Janae watched in wonder as I scrubbed and cleaned their afternoon project, making certain to point out that there was also milk on the semi, in the bed of the pick-up truck and in the truck's tool box. Landon efficiently pointed out ever squirt so I could clean it with my rag.

Meanwhile, I lectured on the fact that we don't squirt milk on the couch and that cups are not to be used for such things and that it is naughty to spill our drinks on the couch and that mommy was going to take the milk away and Landon and Janae couldn't have it anymore. Real scary stuff, I know. My words of instruction fell on deaf ears as the children were only intent on watching that rag and making sure I scrubbed up the very last drop.

A few days later, I was engrossed in another duty and my son was silently working/wrecking in the diningroom. This time, Janae was surprisingly occupied with other things so it wasn't double trouble for once.

I made my way over to the intense project he was working on and noticed he had one of his daddy's work shoes. If he would've had two shoes, I'd know from a distance that he was just trying shoes on. But one shoe indicated something of greater importance like a bug or something.

If there's a bug in the house and the kids know about it, they'll both run to the nearest shoe, pick it up and lug it over to where the bug is, was or will be. Shouts of panic and excitement will alarm anyone who can here them (which is usually everyone in the house) and the death of the bug is imminent. You'll hear bangs and slams and gasps and yells. Upon inspection, a wriggling body of an ant will be seen limping away from the battle scene.

I was surprised that Landon's intent on getting this particular bug was unhailed by the usual response.

I quietly slipped over to him, noting that the shoe was on the floor and not in his hand while he intently worked on something by the window sill. His little hands were skillfully putting an end to something while he held his fingers close to his face in order to see the project at hand.

A quick observation told me that this bug was indeed dead since only a few ant-like parts remained on his finger tips. The little man had it all in order and there was no need to panic: the bug was dead.

The interruptions to daily work (and blogging) are constant and varied. They constantly vary too.

Like yesterday when I was working in the kitchen right after Landon got up from his nap. He had just found an exciting morsel of food left over from his sister's neglected snack: a half of a banana.

He carefully peeled the remainder of the peeling off and kindly placed the scraps in the garbage can, right where I was working. I could hear happy sounds as he gushed and exclaimed about this wonderful banana.

Suddenly, the tone changed as he got to the end and found a dark spot.

"It's dirty, Mom," he mourned. "Wash it, Mom."

"Oh... here Landon... let me take that banana," I said while reaching for a knife. I amputated the bruise off and told him we can't wash the banana but we can cut the bad spot off, impressing myself with the wise lesson I was teaching my son.

I handed the rest of the good part back.

"Thanks Mom... it's all clean now," he responded, apparently not taking to heart what I said about cleaning a banana.

Any minute now, I will hear a sleepy voice call down the hall... "I ready to get up in the morning, Mom." And I'll open the gate and let the little man out to kill more bugs and clean more bananas today.

If you wonder why I'm not blogging, that's why.