On any given day, I provide many specialty services.
- I’m a chef to those who aren’t supposed to touch the stove.
- I’m a chauffeur to those who can’t drive (nor reach the pedals).
- I provide laundry service to those who aren’t tall enough to reach the washing machine.
- I’m the finder of lost dinosaurs and princesses for those who can’t remember if they played aquarium upstairs or downstairs.
The VIP’s that I provide these services to are very near and dear to me. After all, they were the ones that forced me to eat crackers before getting out of bed, only to then crave sour cream and rice. They had me up all hours of the night with their incessant and untimely bout of hiccups, only to kick me when I tried to move and alleviate the problem. They forced me to contort my body into painful positions that I didn’t think were possible, only to take a breath, let out a cry and instantly turn me into putty. What a gift!
But I have a confession. I don’t always feel this way. Sometimes being a chef of made-to-order bowls of oatmeal is frustrating. Tightening and loosening the buckles of a car seat requires intense training and continuous patience. Washing load after load of shirts and bottoms that have more than one matching possibility, yet not being able to find a match so that the clothes can be put away, is tedious. Looking for dinosaurs and princesses in places they aren’t, but to instead find long-lost sippy cups still filled with milk that is now curdled and moldy makes washing the dishes that much more unpleasant.
Just a few weeks ago I took on another responsibility – surgeon.
… my “reward” put a ball of tissue in her nose – and it got stuck. My thought process started with “What were you thinking?!” although I’m pretty sure that’s not a proper question to ask a three year old. I tilted her head back and thought “Wow, that’s pretty far in there…” and mentally gave some credit to the girl for going above and beyond “getting the job done.”
Being the MacGyver mom that I am (not), I pulled out my tweezers, told her to hold very still and…
Want to hear why Harvard Medical School is going to reject my application? Head over to Feminine Adventures where I’m honored to be guest posting today while Anna and her family are settling in and turning their new house into their new home.
Come back and let me know if anyone else is an aspiring surgeon! See you in the comments!
Join us for Gratituesday at Heavenly Homemakers!
My oldest daughter stuck a tic tac up her nose when she was 2. That was a fun one. Fortunately my son new exactly how to get it out. At age 15 he finally confessed to having done the exact same thing when he was younger. Kids!
A tic tac?! My daughter would have been doomed, lol. I am curious how to get that how though – you know, in case my girl gets any other bright ideas, lol.
My son started at the bridge of her nose and pushed and wiggled until it worked its way out. It was a spearmint one so she had some really bright green snot brought on by the tears because, as my son told me, when it starts to dissolve inside the nose it also burns. So if you give her a tic tac make sure she puts it in her mouth, not her nose.
Ooh, burning in the nose. That would be a nice deterrent!