The Grass is Always Greener

Taking the girls to the library isn't my favorite of motherly duties.

DISCLAIMER: I love that they go to the library and I think it's super important--but holy bejesus it ain't easy.

Imagine having to watch two kids who are on two opposite sides wanting to pull every book down that either contains the color pink or that has pictures of horses splattered all over it. Then toss in a game of hide and seek that always ends in laughter as Mia discovers me by moving books and peeking through the other side of the aisle. Then throw in 2 rounds of "pick-em-up" with the basket of about 75 crayons that Mia inevitably knocks over with her knubby elbows while coloring a little too dramatically. And all the while--try to remain as quiet as possible. Because after all, it is a library.

The greatest part of the library is the deep breath I take after successfully hauling two kids and a 20 lb. bag of books back into the car. No, I take that back. The best part of the library is the weekly story time class that both girls attend. For 30 minutes I get to innocently watch on the sidelines as the girls listen to a story, sing some songs, have fun and make a craft. Yes, indeed, this is the best part. I love watching them from the sidelines.

Especially on craft days. Several weeks ago the kids were given a styrofoam cup filled with soil.

Then they glued a smiley face on the outside of the cup and were given a handful of grass seeds that they were to "drizzle" over the top of the soil.

Drizzle.

As in, drop your handful of about 437 seeds onto the top of the soil. Mia followed directions perfectly and in about 17 seconds her craft was completed. Bella however, decided that the proper way to cultivate her grass was to sift through the soil and individually plant the seeds.

Seed by freakin' seed.

For a minute or two, I obliged her obsessiveness by not wanting to disrupt her creativity. About 5 minutes passed, and I felt my foot twitching like crazy. So I calmly interjected, "you might want to sprinkle all the rest of the seeds on top since the class is ending."

Ya know, in that calm and collected voice you use when in the presence of other mothers--yeah that's the one I used.

But Farmer Bella wouldn't budge. By this point, Mia was losing her mind because all she wanted to do was dump the basket of crayons all over the floor and smugly watch me

pick them up.

FIFTEEN MINUTES PASSED, the class ended and it was just me, Bella and the tazmanian devil left in the room. Bella was still implanting the soil--seed by seed. So I went in for another attempt, "perhaps the grass seeds won't be able to breathe and grow if they're all at the bottom of the cup."

Failed attempt on my part and by now my patience was gone. I turned my focus to Mia and started to peel her off the floor. And with that, Bella finished and clapped her hands clean and proudly showed me how she planted every single seed herself by singing a rather loud, "ta-daaaaa."

About a week later.....sure enough-the grass had grown.

These cups sit on the window sill above my kitchen sink. I look at them about 23 times a day and every single time, I smile. I smile because I think about how frustrated I got in such a pure and honest situation. But I also smile, because sure enough Mia's grass is much fuller.

I'm awful.

On a sidenote, the Bella-Mommy-Scissors triangle of trust is back in effect. About 3 months ago, two days after getting scissor priveleges I found a chunk of her hair on my kitchen floor.

I figured I'd give her another chance with the scissors--and she had a ball.

Now if only I could get her to work the lawn mower!