What Do You Do With A Drunken Sailor And A Jar Of Peanut Butter?

Last night I took some Benadryl at 11 p.m. because my eye sockets were aching. Allergies, who needs them?

At 3 a.m. Tobin decided it was a good time to get up. “Mama! Where are you? Yiving Womb!! (which means “I want to go to the living room”). It took a good hour to get him settled down again, and at 6 he was ready for the day AGAIN. I stumbled into the Yiving Womb like a drunken sailor early in the morning and slapped together breakfast.

Breakfast was a piece of bread with peanut butter. No jam. No toasting. It was a miracle, that little piece of bread. It almost didn’t happen. I was so tired. Weigh heigh and up she rises, you know?

Motherhood makes you see things differently. The small things get bigger and the big things get smaller, and suddenly life is very clear. I don’t know. I just know that before having three little boys I never would have been impressed with humble bread with plain, smooth peanut butter.

For the first years, I judged myself. I thought, “Good mothers make eggs.”

Don’t think that way, it will just make you miserable. Do what you can do. Celebrate the slapped together sandwich.

It’s important.

If I had made eggs this morning, I would be testy during the whole process. I might have snapped at the children and kicked the dog.

Instead I flopped on the couch and did the classic snooze with one eye open bit. The kids will remember sitting on their mother, watching “Little Bear” cartoons. One of them will remember sucking his thumb and sitting on my ribs, another will remember sitting on my knees and another will remember trying to climb on the entertainment center just to make me crazy.

Good memories. Peanut butter memories.

I call my boys “peanut butter”.  Once Sheldon yelled at me, “I’m not your PEANUT BUTTER” and I sighed. Five minutes later he wanted to tell me a secret. He whispered it to me in the laundry room, “Actually, I am weally peanut butter. Shh. I weally am peanut butter mom.”

I smiled. I knew that already.

7 thoughts on “What Do You Do With A Drunken Sailor And A Jar Of Peanut Butter?

  1. Oh, I wuv that he is weally peanut butter.

    We do cereal most every morning here – I can't even handle buttering bread. The other day (on a VBS and baby-sitting morning) C wanted oatmeal and it about killed me — even though it was instant microwave oatmeal (of course).

    Like

  2. My 2 youngest have a banana and a cup of milk every single morning. The other kids are old enough to make their own breakfast. Kids like repetion, right? Despite my best efforts, I am just not a morning person, we have all accepted it. I don't feel guilty AT ALL. I have made dinner 300 days out of 365 every year for almost 20 years. That's 6000 meals, I figure I am way ahead in meal points. If anyone were keeping score, and they're not, because cooking meals is not what makes us good mothers.

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