All In A Day's Work...

My dad stayed with us this past weekend. The kids have never spent time with him before so it was exciting to have him here for the whole weekend!

We went and picked him up Thursday afternoon and on Friday we went about our normal routine. I brought Sarah to school early in the morning and then waited for my dad to wake up. He and I had stayed up pretty late talking Thursday night so he didn't get out of bed till 10:30. He went outside on our back patio to wake up a bit and I decided to bring Luke with me and join him. Patrick was busy in his room playing with his train set. Several minutes of conversation passed and Patrick skipped through the door towards us. Using my excellent powers of observation, I noticed that he was wearing a different pair of denim shorts. I inquired about this change of clothes as it usually means he wet his pants. He denied having an accident, but the "innocent" smile and twinkle in his bright blue eyes alerted me that something truly terrible had occurred.

I went inside the door and saw a puddle on the floor. I was actually relieved at this point because the puddle was on the tile for once instead of on the carpet. Just as I was hollering for Patrick to come inside to help clean up his mess, my voice trailed off and my stomach sank as my my eyes followed the "puddle"....down the entire length of the hallway...and to the carpets on either side of the tile...and down the hall all the way to the bedrooms...

The back of the house was flooded. Literally flooded. I tossed the baby to my dad and ran to the bathroom to turn off the full-force running faucet of the bathtub. The tub had clearly not been drained from bath time and was three-quarters full when Patrick turned the water on. I really should have taken pictures-it was bad. But that was not the time to bust out the camera. I had to move FAST to get towels onto the carpet in order to stop the water from seeping into it even more. Then I had to get the shop-vac from the utility room and take the baby so my dad could start sucking up the water all down the hallway. Of course, this occurred at the exact time I had to get Sarah from school. So I left my poor dad to shop-vac the water while I went to retrieve Sarah.

When we got back to the house dad had the water up from the tile, but the carpet was a different story. I tried everything-spent an hour breaking my back carrying my huge baby and soaking up water with towels, the shop-vac...it was soooo much; there was no way to get it all up. I set up fans to try to dry it to no avail. (Of course my husband came home later that evening and asked what I was doing while the house was flooding. I even had a witness and he still didn't believe me that it was a matter of MINUTES-seriously no more than 3 MINUTES-that all this happened.)

It gets better: while I was slaving away trying to dry up our carpet Patrick dumped out a gallon-sized ziplock baggie full of cookies. I hate trying to explain these disasters to my husband...I know it's hard to believe unless it happens to you, but it does really happen in a blink of an eye, before there's time to react. So I vacuumed up the cookies and as I was putting the vacuum away I heard Sarah and Patrick starting to argue. I sprinted to the kitchen where they were sitting at the bar counter and right in mid-sentence: "STOP-YOU'RE GOING TO SPI....." the kids knocked over my glass of Coke. Onto my laptop. At this point I was at wits' end and spanked both of them on the spot and banished them to their room. I looked at the clock--and shook my head when I saw that it was not even noon.

It is a little sad, but I was glad that my dad was there to witness the events of the morning. He was able to back up my story and basically give me a little credibility with my hubby.

If anyone has any tips for the carpet I would LOVE to hear them. It smells horrible, like mildew. I can't seem to get all the water out no matter what and now that it has been a few days it seems like the damage is permanent. Sigh...

I have come to the conclusion that no matter how much I want to, I do not have power over who my kids are. I had always believed that parents could control how their kids turn out...you know, if they are "good" or "bad", what they like, their personalities. But then I had kids! All of a sudden I didn't know everything! I know it's up to me to keep them safe, happy, and healthy, but most everything else is up for grabs.

I have my little Sarah, my only daughter and I am aware that she is a tad more high-maintenance than most 5 year old girls. She's definitely spunky and mischief follows her like a second shadow; she possibly borders on the edge of normal behavior as far as trouble-making goes. But I don't think she is too strange....

Luke is as close to the perfect baby as you can get, in my completely unbiased opinion. ;) A little clingy, but I like that in a baby.

And then there is Patrick. He's...a challenge. This is not a bad thing necessarily. Just the way it is. Just the way HE is. I have tried to show him which behaviors are acceptable and which ones are not by example, with bribes, by explaining, basically you name it I have tried it. Nothing works-he is definitely his own person. And that drives me crazy! It is so hard to let go of that control...the control I think I am entitled to because they are MY kids. I finally realized they are only mine to raise-they actually belong to God-He only blessed me with the (sometime very difficult) job of taking care of them. I have often asked God why he chose these particular children to be matched with this particular mother. He has not answered, and if He has I was too busy cleaning up some disaster to notice.

Everyday there is something that Patrick does to make me seriously wonder if there was some mix-up at the hospital...did he really come from ME!? Is this weird? I don't know if it is normal to feel that way about your own child? I love him the exact same way as I love my other kids, but he is the only one that makes me question if the right mom got the right babe.

For example: the other day Luke was minding his own business when out of nowhere PatPat walked up to him, bent down, and picked the baby's nose...and ATE what came out. ATE IT! How disgusting is that!?!? It's not enough for him to pick his own nose, he has to do it to his brother, too. All I know is that did not come from MY side of the family.

Another example of Patrick's odd personality: he truly believes he is Peter Pan. Truly. I am just waiting for the day to come we have to visit the ER (again) because he thinks he can fly. For now he is satisfied with jumping off the couch, but I know he will try a more ambitious (read: dangerous) location and it is just a matter of time. He carries a stick around and says it's his "dagger" and he is always rescuing Wendy.

He watches TV on the couch. Seems normal, right? Wrong! He watches it on the couch...upside down, standing on his head. And he comes out of his room every single day with his underwear on backwards as well as his pants. Every day.

Anyway...I guess there's no point except Patrick puzzles me. I hope I'm doing this parenting thing right...