Thursday, January 19, 2012

alien behavior...

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You know those moments that you never ever really ever want to remember ever again?
But yet you know you will never ever be able to forget?
We had one of those today.
In the diner parking lot...mama was craving a big fat juice burger. Yep, no shame here.
And as we're walking out, she and daddy are walking a little a head of mama, as the burger may or may not have slowed down mama's speed on the walk out.
Mama got about two steps away from the 3 yr old alien-exploring her new planet with strange and impulsive interactions and behaviors, I mean girl, and noticed that she had missed a split second bow down to the ground with a return prize in the hand of said child.
The prize, you ask? What might that have been?
Oh well, just a simple little half used portion of a tampon applicator.
The purple kind.
Does that make it Tampax or Playtex?
I'm not really sure.
Because all I could think of, if you could call what I was doing at that point clear thinking, was how close I was to vomiting on said child's shoes or her daddy's, if he walked any closer.
They still, both, to this point, didn't know, or understand, the horrors of what she was holding in her hand.
You see, I had been let in on the small secret as we entered the diner and saw the other half of the applicator and wondered what kind of sickness someone would have to possess to leave a remnant like this behind, in a public place.
And the horror that rushed through my blood, when realizing my darling golden curly-locked girl was now discovering this secret at a closer distance than I had allowed us on our walk in, was UNSPEAKABLE.
All I could think of at the moment was....GET it OUT of your little squishy germ and STD-free hands right.this.instant.
So, I did what any mother in her right mind would do...started hitting the purple offender with my car keys to knock it out of her hand.
I sure wasn't going to add to the horror by touching it myself!
It took 3 swift tries...and down it fell.
Back to it's destiny it should have discovered already...road kill under this mama's tires.
The little alien and her daddy are still gawking at the mama at this point, wondering why in tarnation mama was dry-heaving and swinging her keys madly in the air at the small child's precious tender left hand.
She was only trying to show me her parking lot surprise!
I couldn't produce speech to let them know the grave offense to everything that was holy, that she had just committed.
All I could ponder was if I had left poison control's number in my phone the last time I had to use it...because couldn't they help me with some sort of answer for this sort of travesty?!
Aren't these just the calls they are waiting for, with sheets of cleansing power tips on how to rid the child of the terrors of someone's past refuse?!
Oh my.
All I could do after the heaving settled and the teary eyes (from shock or death-by-freaked-out-laughing, I'm still not sure which) stopped was huff at the dad to put the violated child in the car while profusely scrubbing her body with hand sanitizer 4 times over, vowing to continue the scrub down the second we entered the homestead door.
The cleansing did continue for about 30 minutes in the sink, while the dad kept saying the mom was highly unnecessarily grossed out, as he was sure the rain and previous car encounters had washed off any gross previous remains.
Okay, sure, I said...well then leave me alone to my freakouts!
I'm sure there's some other mama out there who has been through some horror of the sort who will encourage my weary mama-of-daily-alien-behavior-heart or at least freak out and heave with me!
I was right.
Team mama to the rescue!
My handy texting machine rallied the troops and the small gathering of us all lost our lunch together and promised to watch our little aliens more closely while in the local diner parking lot.
Watch them mamas.
The little aliens in our lives will stop at nothing short than total child-imposed/intended freakouts for the mamas who love their little dear hearts.
After a full shower down cleansing, (because following the "incident" and subsequent scourings, there was a need to scoot around the whole toilet seat with a poo-soiled bottom, to see if the whole seat would really turn brown--it did, if you were wondering and the heaving and scouring continued on) we have entered into nap zone in these parts.
Do you think she'll give me an extra long pause and deep breath to myself today?!
Probably not.
Father help us mamas, for they know not what they do, these aliens you have put into our supervisory territory.
We love them deeply and dearly nonetheless.
And what would we do without our recognized moment-by-moment need for You and hearty doses of mama patience, settled nerves and tummies, gentleness and grace?
Thank you for joining me for this regularly crazily scheduled moment in my Irwin-adventuresome day!
Never a dull moment here with this darling alien-exploring-her-new-planet on the loose!

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

that’s all it takes?!

DSC_0143Mr. Bubble and

 DSC_01444 varying size bowls?!


and a fave-o-rite baby doll?!DSC_0134

Why didn’t anybody tell me the giggles and oodles of non-troubling finding fun we’d have?!
We’ll be making these messes much more often in mama’s kitchen!!


“Do you think she likes it mama?!”DSC_0136DSC_0138DSC_0130DSC_0139DSC_0140DSC_0141DSC_0142”Oh honey, I think she’s in love with head dunks…wouldn’t you be?! I’ll try it on you in the bath tonight, and you tell me how you think she felt!” “Okay, fun!”

It doesn’t take much folks!

I don’t know why in tarnation we think they need all these new-fangled gadgets!

Oh the joys of the simpler things!

AND an added bonus…a spickin’ span floor after clean-up!DSC_0145

Monday, January 2, 2012

holding HIS words dear...

Luke 2:19, 51
...Mary kept all these things to herself, holding them dear, deep within herself.
...His mother held these things dearly, deep within herself.

Even her, the chosen mother, the mama who carried Him within, till the fullness of His birth time, the one who wiped up skinned knees, and cupped handfuls of little boy tears knew the importance of treasuring her Son's, her God's, every word deep within her being, to roll around over and over, and allow them to tenderly penetrate and thus change her life forever.
Shouldn't we have meditative Mary hearts, all the more?

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