A little perspective....

I think Sunday's are going to become recycling days. I just can't seem to get an original writing posted on Sundays. They are too hectic! So here's another oldie but goodie. One of my favorites...

My three-year old Elijah is precocious to say the least. However, it is always interesting how a little bit of perspective brings his antics into focus and instantly wipes away any frustration I feel with him.

One night I returned home to learn that Elijah had dumped about a liter of Hawaiian Punch on my bedroom carpet. What I didn't know then was it would be only the beginning of a campaign of destruction which would last for the next two days.

The next morning, my father brought over the carpet cleaner so I could clean up the Hawaiian Punch spill. No sooner had I finished cleaning the large red spot and returned from dumping the dirty water out of the carpet cleaner, then I found he had snuck down into the kitchen, stole a jar of peanut butter out of the cupboard and smeared it all over the exact same spot where the Hawaiian Punch had been. Muttering under my breath, I went back for the carpet cleaner and repeated the carpet cleaning process.

Earlier in the day, he had found a can of shaving cream left over from when “vandals” toilet papered our house, and he coated our blanket chest with about an inch of shaving cream. When I went to discipline him for this, I found him searching for a rag to clean up the evidence. He was naked with shaving cream on one hand and one bare butt cheek, and he was wearing the bronze shoe Noah, my oldest, had made for me for Mother's Day on one foot. I could not do anything at the sight of him but laugh.

Just before dinner we left to run some errands, and all four of my children fell asleep in the car. Now for those of you who have children, you know what an incredible feat it is to get them all sleeping at the same time. I would rather have gnawed off my own arm then wake any of them by trying to remove them from the car. So I just came up with more errands to run which would not involve taking them out of the vehicle. My last stop was at my grandmother’s house. I ran in to give her some pictures, leaving all four children sound asleep in the van. I was inside about 3 ½ minutes. When I returned to the van, I found Elijah had woken up, and he was in the front seat messing with the radio. As I returned him to his seat, he said, "Look Momma." He had found a packet of BBQ sauce in the garbage can, opened it and poured the entire packet between the seats. I returned home feeling like I needed a vacation.

I have noticed this odd phenomenon that he seems to go on these destructive binges where he does a gob of horrendous things and then takes a break for a little bit to build up some steam for his next reign of terror. I was hoping with all of me that he was at least taking a break to gain more steam for the next time, because I wasn’t sure if I could take anymore.

Wednesday I tried so hard to not let him out of my sight. This is not an easy task when you have four children and three jobs. At naptime, I tried to no avail to get him to sleep. Finally, I gave up and then just minutes before we were supposed to leave for the grocery store, I found him collapsed and sound asleep on the floor in his room. I got a sitter so I wouldn't have to wake the little despot.

Then late that night came the event which put everything into perspective. It was 11:15 p.m., and I was sweeping the kitchen floor. I knew that since he had taken a late nap, Elijah was still awake in his room with his brother Noah, but what I did not know was that they had smuggled hard candy from their Daddy's birthday basket into their room. Noah came tearing down the stairs. He was crying and screaming, "Elijah's choking." I threw down the broom and bolted up the stairs two at a time.

When I got to their room, I found that Elijah was indeed choking. I thought I heard him gasp, but as I knelt down to him I found he was not breathing at all. As I pulled him into my arms to perform the Heimlich maneuver on him, I heard him start to cough. It was very surreal. I couldn't seem to get my mind around what CPR class had taught me. I knew that if he was moving air he was not truly choking so I should allow him to work the item out of his windpipe; however, even though he was breathing, he was struggling so hard on the piece of smuggled candy that was trapped in his throat. Noah was terrified. He was screaming and crying. I told him to go wake his daddy (mostly to remove him from the room). Just as he returned with a very sleepy daddy in tow, Elijah started vomiting. The light still was not on in their room, and by the glow of the TV, I thought I saw blood in what he was puking up. I thought, "Oh God....we better call 911." But as the light came on I realized it was only spit colored dark by the toffee candy which was causing all this ruckus. Then like a gift from heaven, I saw the piece of candy in the vomit I was holding in my hands.

I pulled Elijah into my arms and thanked God for all the trouble he would cause today and the next day and the next day. With tears in my eyes, I sang praises that there was still life in this little destroyer's body. I told Noah that he was the BEST big brother in the world, because he had saved his brother's life by running for help. I glanced over at my middle son sleeping in his bed through this entire incident. There I sat stinking of vomit and realizing that my world was right and perfect and amazing.

Even as I tell this story with tears streaming down my face from remembering it all, I realize nothing else matters: money troubles, lack of sleep, no time to myself, a house that is completely destroyed on a regular basis… none of it matters. I do not care if I go the rest of my life without ever having another restful vacation. I am blessed and lucky, and all I really want is many more years to hold these babies in my arms.