Life has been much the same since my Week in the Life posts…messy! I've been keeping busy with the change over to fall clothes for one. I've taken to throwing away any socks that no one claims. It just isn't worth the auction! "No Nonsense sock going once, going twice…" Things have been getting destroyed and lost at a steady pace. The 2yo's hair is still glued to his head. The play room disasters have been much better, though, since I instituted a "All toys must stay on this blanket" rule and a "I control all keys to the toys" rule. Believe me, I have no illusions that it will work long-term. But like immersing oneself in a good piece of fiction, I am enjoying the fantasy for now. I mentioned my hopes that my new system was working at my Wonder Women Bible study this week. One woman was astonished. "You lock up your kids' TOYS?" She so needs to read my blog.
I learned something on Friday. We are studying the attributes of God as well as pottery. I thought it would be great for the kids to learn to make real pottery on a wheel. My friend Kris set the whole class up and was careful to remind me to have the kids wear old clothes and bring towels. Despite noting that on my iPhone calendar, I didn't actually remember until we were ten minutes away from class. First, I despise feeling like an idiot for failing to remember things like this. I've always known I hated that. But what I realized anew is that I really, really hate getting dirty. Or more specifically, I really, really hate when my kids get dirty.
I had brought my good camera to take some "Look we're making pottery!" pics and I was excited to watch the kids do their thing. I realized quickly that my camera wouldn't be coming out for a loooooong time. I was going to have to help the 6yo and I was going to have to watch my kids demolish their mostly new fall clothes.
Kris was so organized and had made homemade play dough and brought toys to play with it for the younger kids. I was thrilled with how good the little ones were until I saw what they did with the play-dough. Apparently homemade play-dough doesn't peel off the floor quite as nicely as the store-bought kind. More on that later.
So the teacher of the class taught us 50 easy steps to making a bowl. She was nice enough to go over them a second time, but I sat down at the wheel with the 6yo and felt like an idiot. Now whaaaaa???? My 6yo is also my ants-in-the-pants kid. I was really scared when he was sitting next to the throttle for the wheel. I knew we were in trouble when parts of the clay went flying when he tried to make his bowl. I kept hoping he could just figure it out on his own, but nope. I had to get my hands dirty. I am not OCD, but I was starting to hyperventilate when I saw the mess on my only-worn-once pants and the splatters of goo all over the kids.
I was relieved when they told me it would wash out! The 6yo managed to make a bowl with professional help and was done. I decided to try my hand at it. The teacher was disgusted with me. I had clay flying everywhere. I made…nothing. I just gave up. It was too humiliating. When I walked over to where the little kids were doing play-dough, I started feeling woozy. The play-dough was like a giant piece of gum stuck to a 3-foot square of floor. And that wasn't the worst of it. It was also stuck all over my kids. My friend, Shannon said, "Oh, I think it's on your Gucci purse, too." Somebody get me a cool rag, please. For my head.
We spent what felt like an eternity cleaning everything up and I bolted for the car. I said, "How did everyone like it?" Good! they all yelled. I said, "Anyone want to make pottery their hobby?" No, they said. "Good!" I yelled.
I am so glad that I am not the Potter, but the clay. The day gave me new appreciation for the mess that God has to contend with in dealing with all of us. Praise God I don't have to be the one to clean it up!