Laughter and Noise

A few weeks back I was awakened by a little voice.

"Mom, mom, mommy, mom".

It was 4:30 in the morning.  (However it was only a couple days after daylight savings, so it felt like 3:30).  You see Mr. Momo figured out how to climb out of his crib a couple weeks previous to this.  It's been awful.  So in the wee hours of the morning he sauntered into my room.  Wide awake.  I could see attempts to get him back to bed would be futile, so we were up. I began counting down until "melmo" (elmo aka sesame street) would be on.  Finally just after "melmo" came on the telly… Momo was out cold.

Then at 7:30 the troops were all up.  I could feel a nasty headache coming on.  I grabbed a couple IBU's to hopefully stop it before it debilitated me.  Then began the morning hustle.  Which included oatmeal for the kids.  I sent Scooter off to school and then sat down to write my goals for the day.  (I write down 5 things I want to accomplish for the day… on what ever random piece of paper I can find and with whatever is handy to write with, this particular day it was a red sharpie).  When suddenly a little hand covered in oatmeal landed on my paper and then all over the couch.  Momo had oatmeal everywhere.  Uggh.  I sat my paper down, scolded him and went to grab a rag to clean breakfast off of my couch.  Within that short 10 seconds my son had the red sharpie marker and had written on my couch.  
"Honestly, are you trying to destroy my house?"

I believe those were my exact words.  I was upset.  I began scrubbing the couch removing oatmeal (aka natural concrete) and sharpie.  The pills must not have been working because my headache was becoming a monster.  In hopes it would make me feel better I retreated to the bathroom to get ready for the day.  Momo followed.  As I was doing my hair I looked down to find he had retrieved my deodorant from the counter and pulled the stick of it out.  I again scolded him and cleaned the white mess off the floor.  I then replaced what was left of the stick back into it's home.   I looked up… where was Momo?  After a little searching I found him downstairs on my studio desk devouring the sucker Scooter had given me for valentines.  He was covered in red sticky gunk.  And stuck to the sticky was glitter from my current project.  So I carried him upstairs to the bathroom.  My head was POUNDING.  I hadn't had a headache this miserable in a long time.  Momo tossed his sucker onto the carpet as I was transporting him.  Once in the bathroom he was stripped down.  I left to throw away the diaper and retrieve the sucker from the carpet.  There on the kitchen floor was a LARGE puddle of water and ice.  I had forgotten to lock the water on the fridge and Momo must have helped himself when I was franticly attempting to remove red marker from the couch.  On the way back to the bathroom I was welcomed to another giant puddle of water, this time on the carpet, next to a cup that Momo must have filled and "unfilled" over my carpet.  Once in the bathroom,  Momo was waiting for me, and I put him in the bath.  Head… still unrelenting I called for Ride to come into the bathroom so I could do her hair.  As I was doing her hair I hear Momo say "bubbles" I looked over to see LOADS of bubbles.  He had "unfilled" (he's good at that) an entire bottle of shampoo into his bath.  Urrgghh.  (Mental note… get shampoo and deodorant at the store).  I continued to do Rides hair as a little white naked body went streaking out of the bathroom.  I was beyond caring at this point.  It was only 11 am… my head was still pounding and I was ready to surrender the day to my sons antics.  After finishing up Rides hair I went to find the boy.  I could here him giggling downstairs.  There he was, his stomach on the base of the blue Ikea swinging chair we have hanging in the "playroom"  his bare bottom swinging in the breeze as he squealed… 
Wwwweeeeeeeee!
  Pure glee.  This made me smile.  The headache was still there. So was the marker on the couch.  The day wouldn't get any easier… especially once nap time rolled around and getting a toddler to stay in his crib when it's no longer a cage is a conquest. But somehow those things were minimized with the memory of that little bare backside on the swing.  
Sometimes it's the little things that get me through the day.

I have a Brian Andreas print hanging in my (very messy) laundry room… it reads…

There are lives I can imagine without children but none of them have the same laughter and noise.

One day I'll look around at a clean house, and miss that laughter and noise.  
I think I'll even miss the mess.
Frame by http://www.kitschydigitals.com/