Burned nipples & other Disasters

Ahhhh, motherhood. It has its amazing moments; catching my daughter singing to Jesus, bubba saying he wants to be, “brave like David,” baby boy grabbing my cheeks and giving me the best lovin’. This is what keeps you sane; pieces of your day when the clouds part and you feel truly blessed to have been given children. Your babies aren’t wild, devious, heathens! No, they are perfect.

I like to imagine God in a control room watching my day on a monitor. He watches as I wake up and peel baby boy off of me. (Peel because we are stuck together with sweat, milk, & spit up.) He cringes as I make my way to Sissy’s room just in time to see her initial reaction to the outfit SHE helped me pick the night before. (Judging from her buried eyebrows and bulging bottom lip, her mind has changed overnight.) I am sure God grins and shakes his head while we scramble toward the car throwing on backpacks, crying, fussing. Five minutes later, we scramble out throwing on backpacks, crying, fussing. God nods at his entourage of angels, and admits this may not be the best day.

Sissy is dropped off and we make our way back to the car. We pick up my mama and head to the mall. Surely God chuckles when bubba starts to tee tee in the mall parking lot. (The elderly lady, leaving the mall, is not amused.) The boys are awful in the mall. (I know they can’t help it. They’re boys… It’s a mall.) We get Easter clothes, shoes, etc. and leave the way we came; sweaty, whiney, & hungry. Sissy is picked up and we return home. I make baby boy a bottle and decide I should probably sanitize the bottle nipples. (First baby: boiled them once a week, second baby: once a month, third baby: once…ever) I put them in a pot of boiling water and rush out of the kitchen to find the source of the loud banging noise. (No worries, just the big kids seeing who can jump off the dresser and over the baby.) The afternoon continues with homework and getting ready for sissy’s dance class.

I wonder if, at this point, heaven looks like an audience watching a suspenseful movie? The angels, fists clenched, shouting at me, “The nipples! Katina, remember the nipples!” They all look at God, “Is she going to remember? Please tell us that idiot doesn’t burn the house down!” Perhaps God simply smiles a knowing smile and shrugs.
The kids start begging for a snack. I walk into the kitchen and see a small amount of smoke. A burned rubber smell fills my nostrils. I remember the nipples! (The angels let out a sigh of relief.) All the water has evaporated and the nipples are frying. There is no time to cry over burned nipples. We’ve got to get to dance.


Dance class is buzzing with the excitement of sparkly new costumes. The waiting room is quite stuffy, and baby boy keeps me busy by dumping out the diaper bag and crawling everywhere. (I am sure those same angels are watching when baby boy finds some remote location for my keys.) The girls explode from dance class hyped up on sugar, glitter, & all things girly. I begin looking for my keys. My search becomes more and more frantic as the next group bounces into the room. New mamas claim seats and look at me with pity. Baby boy starts squirming and sissy tries to help. I eventually let go of any remaining shred of dignity and lie flat on the floor to look under the furniture. The keys are gone. I give up and call my husband to bring the spare key.
I can’t help but shed a few tears when I get in the car. We get home and the nighttime craziness begins. When everyone is finally asleep, I sit in my chair and think about my day. (Maybe God is alone now too and watching me.) I pick up my phone and look back at the little video I made of sissy showing off her costume. I see her sweet smile and her confident wave. The clouds part. Joy and thankfulness flood my soul. I thank God for this wonderful day.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s