Not a Maid

I have a hard time giving my four month old baby floor time. It's so good for her to kick and play and practice lifting her head, but it's not so good for her to be left alone on the floor, because ... brother. He sits on her, throws things at her, tries to make her eat and drink things, covers her with blankets, and smothers her with kisses. She doesn't last a minute before she's begging for me to step in and rescue her.

Today I decided to attempt another floor session, and distracted brother by asking if we should clean the bathroom or do the dishes. Of course I said we'd do the dishes. I'm not ready for him to help me with the bathroom. So we wandered out to the kitchen to get 'er done.

Adam is my little kitchen buddy. He has this little pot that he carries around with him, and if there's something he wants to reach, he'll turn it upside down and stand on it. If that's not readily available, he'll grab one of the 5-gallon buckets where I store my bulk foods. He is always at my side to stir the bread dough, watches as I spread butter on our toast in the morning, and waits for a sample taste from the supper pot. 

Normally when he helps me with dishes though, he'll stand at the rinse water and empty the drainer back into it, slurp water from a spoon, or else wait like a hawk to grab a cup or something that holds a substantial amount of water to enter his reach, which of course generally leads to a chance to wipe up a mess. We keep a pile of rags under the sink for such occasions, and he knows just where they are stored, so he gets to sop it up himself. 

Today's dish day was different. Instead of claiming his usual spot at the rinse water (which I really don't mind, except for the frustration of having to put things into the drainer numerous times), he set his pot at my other side, next to the dirty dishes. There he stood happily, handing me stuff to wash. When everything was cleared within reach, I moved the stack of plates closer for him. In went the first one with a splash. Only instead of slipping them in the water like we would, it was a full-contact level-with-the-surface smack. Then came the second one, only with much greater force, raining puddles of water and gobs of soap suds clear across the kitchen. I looked at the window in front of me, dripping with water, and soap covered the sill. Then turning to a sopping wet, sudsy little boy next to me, I laughed. Our eyes met and my little sidekick laughed right along, his face beaming with delight.   

There are so many ways I might never have experienced this split-second, day-making moment. I could've rejected his wanting to help. I could've placed him at his usual spot at the rinse water. I could've focused on the pools of water on the floors and countertop, or the soap residue on my windows. But I'm not a maid; I'm a mom. It's not clean dishes that matter. My job is to bring this one year old boy alongside me and teach him things. I get to spend time with him and show him that work can be fun. Too often we moms can be weighed down with a messy house and other stresses that come along with caring for a home, but I want to encourage you not to get caught up in the mundane. Now is our chance to invest in our children, for all too soon they will be grown up and wanting to take flight on their own. Let's teach them how.