Oh....to Be Bored

When your morning starts with, "Mom!  The water balloon downstairs broke."  It might be time to figure out how to call in sick.   It's not that I don't love my children or find their endless means of amusing themselves via heretofore completely unthinkable venues interesting; it's just I'd like the option to be bored for a few minutes.  

This past week, I've been clearing out broken stuff, doors, old mattresses and bed frames, things which will require me to hire people with a truck to come take them away.  My oldest had dutifully stacked this stuff outside to await 1-800-Got Junk to show up.   That same day, my two middle sons decided they needed to practice soccer and low, two bed frame mattresses were outside just waiting to become goals.  Propped up by planters pots, they served admirably until it started raining.  Then my oldest got to growl and mutter under his breath as he repeated the task he'd done the day before only this time carrying soggy mattress bed frames and made me promise to threaten major carnage if anyone thought about moving anything from the pile. 

The 1-800 people weren't coming until Tuesday so Sunday came and those mattresses still sat there tempting until it proved too much and I looked out the window to find four children playing scale the tower with the table, door and mattresses strategically placed to allow them to climb to new heights.  It's amazing how inarticulate one becomes when faced with the distinct possibility of serious injuries.  "You!  Get! Off! NOW!" was all I could sputter and that was after repeated attempts to say something else like "Hey, get down before you get yourself hurt!" or some other reasonable command to require compliance.  My oldest was then dispatched to re stack everything in such a manner that future mountains/forts were not possible but I had to promise him a steak for the trouble.

Meanwhile, the attempt to maintain order continues, but everywhere, chaos seems to be breaking out, revealing just how thinly below the surface of my veneer it lurks.  Changing the light bulbs in one room, the ceiling fan decided that was just too much to bear and disconnected from the light fixture requiring an emergency dispatch of an electrician. I'd cleaned out the closet and folded the blankets, only to find six of those said comforters draped across my living room as tents.   I'd rearranged my daughter's room to put the single beds against the wall, giving more floor space.  I found her dancing on her bed next to the glass window.  "AH! AH! AH! AH!"  was all I could get out as I gestured frantically for her to sit down.

Trying to settle them down, I went to turn on the tv, only to find I couldn't find the remote.  Looking under the couch, I discovered the remote plus scads of other missing objects and a few that should not be found at least not under a couch if ever.  Dispatching a child for a trash bag, I began cleaning out the couch and discovered one of the springs was sticking through and that one of the arms had been broken and had exposed staples. (It was an 11 year old couch so I didn't get too crazed by it, but it was decidedly unsafe and needed to be added to the Got Junk Pile).  Getting out their bikes, three needed air and that required a trip to the store for a pump and a pin, and one needed the chain refitted but that was only discovered after the child tried to ride and fell and needed a large band-ade. 

It was at this point I wondered if I could afford to get our house organized, since every task seemed to either threaten with the possibility of a jaunt to the ER or the contracting of a specialist or both.  I also considered whether the natural chaos of our home sans my attempt to impose order somehow insulated my offspring from potential harm.   They couldn't see the bed to jump on before because it was covered with stuffed animals. They couldn't get to their bikes, hence we didn't need to go run another errand.   Cleaning was rapidly increasing my to-do list past my capacity to get ta-dah done.

For the moment, the forces of order won out...symbolically anyway as I made a mental note to rearrange the room once again to ensure spontaneous jumping on the bed wouldn't result in the potential of falling out the window and managed to string back on the chain on the bike. I was grateful their guardian angels had been busy keeping me in the loop.   I was grateful there had been thus far, no injuries; but I had to wonder what else I was missing that was going on whenever I walked into these situations.   To underscore the point, when I went to plug in my cell phone in my room, my guitar and the crib had been moved and someone opened my drawers while I spent time dealing with the bed jumper.  

The guys from 1 800 Got Junk arrived today.  The piles will go away, but now I'm wondering if it would be safer for all concerned if I just send everything out but their beds and dressers.  And for the record, I went down stairs and found all the remaining water balloons.