no having fun

What can you accomplish, in your home, in 15 minutes?

Throw some laundry in the washer or fold a load from the dryer?  Prep a meal?  Write a quick account of your family's antics?

If you're like me, you can accomplish a little, but not nearly as much as your children can undo in the same amount of time.

I had planned a fantastic meal today.  Mediterranean-style Tilapia, with tabbouleh from Brother Juniper's Sacramental Magic book.  I was excited to try the recipes, which seemed relatively quick and simple (not to mention tasty & nutritious).  The prep time called for about 15 minutes for each piece - so I counted on a "30 minute meal."

While you laugh at that, I should also disclose that we have some seriously high piles of laundry.  Obi-2, now fully three years old, has decided he does not want to wear diapers or pull-ups to bed.  I'm happy to encourage my big kid, but not so happy at the heaps of extra sheets, mattress covers, pajamas, etc. that are added to our already overflowing hamper.  If one can drown in laundry, I'm barely staying afloat.  I determined to wrangle control back from the laundry beast today, so I spent time sorting & washing, hanging and drying, folding and stacking.  If nothing else got done today, at least I could look at the laundry and know I finished a project.

I was making good headway before I began dinner prep.  Two loads were finished and folded (a major accomplishment), another was nearly done spinning in the wash, and towels were in the dryer.  After accepting defeat in my quest for nap time, I instructed the boys to play together in their playroom for a few minutes while I got dinner going.  Fifteen minutes - that's all I needed.

That's all it takes, my friends, for things to go from normal, albeit a little tired, life to Mama's-posting-her-resume-and-looking-for-boarding-schools life around the Kenobi homestead.

I smiled as I chopped garlic toasted bulgar wheat.  My boys, sweet guys, were giggling with each other and playing happily.  Then it hit me.  "That giggling sounds like it's not in the play room.  No, it is definitely coming from the laundry room.  There is nothing fun about the laundry room!"

I raced down to find this:

Two boys.

One spray bottle, filled, but with a lid only partially on.

One giant pile of laundry, wet and dry, dirty and clean, where three dirty piles had once stood.

Two open doors on the now-empty washing machine and dryer (we have front-loaders).

A clean, fresh scent of hand soap in the air.

Giggles fading from two young faces.

Turns out they had found my new spray bottle and filled it with foaming hand soap from the downstairs bathroom. This required removing the lid from that soap dispenser, pouring from one bottle into another, and of course, refilling both bottles in the sink.

They took the soapy concoction into the laundry room, and began to do some "cleaning."  Sweet dears.  They want to clean, and needed some towels for the task.

Their search evidently took them to the washing machine, but upon emptying it they found only wet, soppy sheets just out of the spin cycle.  These would not do, so they emptied the dryer to find fluffy towels, which could easily mop up the spilled soapy water in the bathroom, as well as help "clean" the laundry room floor.

But one can't clean the laundry room floor with three piles of laundry (sorted by color & wash temp).  No - they figured the best solution was to combine all of the laundry.  While they were at it, why not just throw it together with the wet sheets from the washer?  Oh, and once the towels are thoroughly soaked from "cleaning," toss them in there, too.  Somewhere along the way, they realized that making a clothes pile is fun - so they took everything off the drying racks and added Daddy's dress shirts and Mama's delicates to the mix, too.  Then, just for good measure, they jumped in it.

The jumping was where the giggles began, and the giggles led MamaToo to investigate.  My investigation ended the fun.

They saw a cleaning project turned into a soft landing pad for flying superhero leaps.  I saw a truckload of laundry, decipherable as clean or dirty only by the sniff-test (eew!) and dampness (again, eew!).

I wish I could tell you how I smiled sweetly and said, "Oh, dear.  Thank you so much for wanting to clean.  That's really sweet."  It didn't even cross my mind to say, "Wow - fun!  A jumping pile!"  I wish I had the grace of some of my friends, who always seem to immediately see the gentle spirit of helpfulness in the midst of mischief.

I didn't.  I started to yell, and then with every last ounce of energy I started repeating to myself, "the fruit of the spirit is...."  This exercise is all that keeps me from yelling, basically because when I finally speak, I'm holding my breath and saying in a very stern, growly voice, "Get. Upstairs. Now!!"  

They whined, "but we don't waaaaant to go upstairs!" I was not in the mood to discuss it further.  I picked up Obi-1 and carried him, flour-sack style, up to his room.  Then I went back downstairs and got his brother.  Setting both together on their launching pads (a.k.a. bunk beds), I sternly advised: "Do. Not. Move. until I come back here to talk with you.  Do not giggle.  Do not play.  Do not get down and get toys or books.  NO HAVING FUN!"

Fifteen minutes passed.  I was not cool, I was not calm, and I was not collected.  My dearest Mr. Kenobi walked in the door and knew something was amiss.  He barely uttered, "What happened?" before I burst into tears and mumbled the story of "pounds of laundry" and "nothing else done" and "spray bottles all over"  and "can't even turn away for 15 minutes!" I also changed the meal plan on the spot - we would have leftover, cold chicken with our tabbouleh, the only piece that was complete.  I then repeated my dramatic announcement: "There will be No More Fun in this house!"

Fortunately, our family believes in forgiveness.  We get a chance to apologize.  We get to work together to sort things (even wet, stinky laundry) out and start over.  We get perspective, even if it takes more than 15 minutes.  And, in spite of ourselves, sometimes we get to have fun.

We also believe in Daddy doing bedtime, which is what he took care of immediately after dinner.  Now that the boys have been asleep for a while, I finally have 15 minutes to reflect.  It turns out that is about what I need to get the story told and begin to smile at the memory.