Two words: child labor
|I mean, come on. My toolbag isn’t gonna bring itself up the stairs.|
|It didn’t work.|
As our living space dwindled to almost nothing, we had to come up with ways to keep the kids occupied and happy and unaware of the fact that mommy was losing her everloving mind at times. I found that LOTS of park time was always an excellent escape.
A new surrounding that they could run around in without me freaking out about them getting electrocuted or stabbed by a giant 5-inch nail. Or having a sledgehammer fall through their bedroom ceiling onto their playmat. Yes, that happened. And it left a giant dent in their floor. The boys had *just* left their room and went looking for me in the basement when BOOM. Apparently, the builders were busting out some ceiling joists above the bedroom and one of the sledgehammers went rogue. The ‘what-if’s’ of that whole scenario shook me more than when it actually happened. I still shudder when I think about it.
When we weren’t doing the park thing, we scheduled some family trips to help get us out of the construction zone and into clean, dust-and-debri-free environments.
And then, of course, there was always shopping.
|Thank goodness he’s finally tall enough to start pushing the darn cart.
Now I can eat my hot dog *and* hold my drink while I shop.
Not surprisingly, the big winner in all of this? Danger. Yup, just plain ol’ keeping an eye on them and letting them have at it. It’s their house, too, and they’ve been so sweet about just sitting quietly in their bedroom while they get to watch the fun stuff happening right outside their bedroom window.