High Alert

 


I would like to send a message out to moms of more than one or two kids. I know some with four, five, six or more children and I just want to say good job on keeping your sanity intact while simultaneously attending sporting events, helping with homework, racing to appointments and giving each of your children the chance to enjoy a sport. It must be hard to make it to all of those practices and games while rushing on to the next child’s event in a whole different town!

I want to say that I admire you and that Superman has nothing on the Supermoms of Akwesasne.  I only have two and feel like I have my hands full all of the time, literally. I sometimes wonder why evolution hasn’t caught up to the demanding lives of on the go moms and given us two extra sets of hands. I’d be happy with one extra especially when Little Brother has to be carried into the house screaming while I juggle groceries and mail in the other hand while it downpours. Sure I could make two trips but then I’d have super soaked clothes and who knows what mischief Little Brother would find in the thirty seconds he would be out of my sight to change clothes. No, never mind, I actually do which is why I make the one trip.

The days my husband is home are comparable to Christmas. Just beeping the horn and having him run out to carry in sleeping kids or a truck load of groceries for me are the best. That’s my type of reward after shopping and loading and reloading bags with one hand so Little Brother doesn’t dart away. Yay for an extra hand! 

Lately it seems that Big Brother has become an incredibly easy kid to raise. He is older now and loves to go to school so there is no fight in the morning with him. He can dress himself and wash his face in the morning. He knows the rules of the house now and almost never needs reminding. He does his homework and if he doesn’t he will broker deals for himself such as getting an extra half hour to play at night and waking up a half hour earlier to finish it. He’s been letting Little Brother in his room now and again, which is nice of him.

Little Brother has amped up his ridiculous antics to make up for his brother. He’s thrown my Tribal ID out a window without me knowing. How he got ahold of it in the backseat while strapped in a car seat I can’t figure out. I thought I had lost it until someone dropped off the faded, run over identification card at my in-laws. I kind of know when he did it because when I made it to U.S. Customs about a week or so before it made its way back to me I pulled up to the border agent without any ID. Good thing my husband carries spare ID cards for everyone in the family!

Last night I got a new kind of surprise. I spent most of Saturday canning tomatoes. I mean hours of going through all the steps my grandmother taught me recently. I was so proud to do it on my own. I decided to can smaller portions to give to my mother and grandmother since they live alone. Well last night I had to work late and when I got home I went to admire my canning. Then I saw it. The seals were broke!

Big brother swears he didn’t do it. Little Brother doesn’t talk too much, but I think he’d plead the fifth no matter what. 3 quarts and 4 pints of tomatoes had all been unscrewed letting the seal go. So much for my stockpile for Winter, I’ve lost half and now my family is going to eat goulash, spaghetti, soup and whatever else I can use tomatoes with to not waste it. I kind of blame myself – why would I leave out fascinating jars that unlike boring cans can be opened without a can opener?

Another fun time was when Big Brother’s homework had to be taped back together after Little Brother thought it would be a good idea to rip it up. He doesn’t rip any other paper, but it’s like he wanted a good entertaining reaction out of his brother. Oh, he got one and now we make sure to put homework back in the backpack immediately.

Little Brother has also interpreted my “don’t eat in the living room” rule as take a bite sitting at the kitchen table and then run around chewing it so he can still play cars and do flips off the couch. Advice I received from grandma was, “well at least he’s eating.” Hmm…I smell a conspiracy.

Oh wait, no, that’s my brain overcooking from staying up late at night to clean the afternoon chaos that I’ve come to accept because we (Big Brother, myself, the house along with its contents, and Big Brother’s toys) are not safe if I don’t spend my time playing with Little Brother during the moments he’s awake. Yes, we are now and have been for what feels like a year in the part of toddlerhood known as high alert. 

 

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