Losing my marbles

I try really hard to be the type of mom who lets her children play with relative freedom. I want them to explore life, make messes (within reason), and get their hands dirty in the name of educational play. There are lots of moms who are far too high-strung and there are lots of moms who sit back with a cup of coffee and their iPhone and just let chaos unfurl. I pride myself on finding a good balance there. For instance, I would never:

Ban playdough from my house because it gets in the cracks of the table, floors, and sneaker treads of whomever is walking by.

And I would also never:

Let my kids get out all the playdough in North America as I say casually to a friend, “Just make sure Child B doesn’t eat TOO much.” (As Child B is gnawing hungrily on a blob the size of a tennis ball.)

Both of those instances are true stories, btw.

I’m kind of in the middle. I’m the kind of mom who absolutely lets her preschoolers cut out cookies, but also tries to teach them the best technique to maximize cuts per roll-out.

So our house isn’t as clean and organized as I dream, and I generally make myself stay OK with that. I wish it was cleaner, especially when anybody (and I mean ANYBODY—sorry for the mess Mr. UPS Man) stops by, but I love that the boys can be boys. I value that more.

Except in one area.

I’m just about ready to banish this thing from my house. (By “banish” I mean, “laughing maniacally as I drop-kick it out the front door.”) Roy brought it home from a thrift store yesterday and promptly dubbed it, “the Jamesest game ever.” Which is admittedly true. Mr. Order and Logic has been completely captivated. But this particular Mousetrap came from a thrift store, and it did so with good reason:

Problem A: One of the big crane-like pieces is snapped off, so the actual Goldberg process is in two acts. This bothers me. I’ve tried to tweak it myself and I only seem to exchange fixing one issue for creating another. The thing shouldn’t stop. Stop stopping!!!!

Problem B: The four year old operating the machinery forgets to set all the components before he cranks the wheel to start the marble. It kills me to sit there and watch him when I KNOW the trap at the end is already on the ground.

Problem C: We have hardwood floors. Those marbles are friggin’ heavy and, in the hands of a young child, particularly inept at staying on the table. I swear, one of them hits the hard floor and starts a gingerbread man-like escape all around the downstairs every thirty seconds.

And every time I hear a marble hit the ground my nice middle-of-the-road mom philosophy loses a little balance and I do this. (Hopefully inwardly.)

 

Notice the pursed lips, the haphazard hair, the expression of resigned exhaustion.

I don’t know what it is—I can handle two hundred blocks on my living room floor, preventing any kind of normal path across the room. I can deal with crumbs on the table and floor and half-digested food in the high chair. Tearing books? Nothing a little tape can’t fix. But. That. Marble.

I realize this is all on me. But it’s killing me, one drop at a time.

Please help.

Today’s 1%: If I really want to find a good 1% for the day I should start blogging at night. I’ve only been awake for two hours and most of that time has been trying to survive marble drops. So I’m just barely hanging on right now. But yesterday I made biscotti for the first time. (After an unfortunate biscotti experience from a local coffee shop. Biscotti should be crisp, but it shouldn’t smash into smithereens if you were to take a hammer to it. Or break your teeth.) These biscotti still need a nice partial-submersion in a bath of white chocolate, but the actual bake is AWESOME. They look professional and they taste great. Thumbs up on this one!