Malachi loves bananas. Did I say loves? I meant worships. If I was a 5 year old I might chant something like so; Malachi loves bananas, he wants to marry them! I would then giggle with glee, because I am so funny, and repeat myself about 4,000 times. I am not 5, but do you get the picture, this kid loves his bananas! He actually has a banana dance. You really haven't lived until you've seen the banana dance. Did I mention he loves bananas?!
Unfortunately, he can't have them often, or eat very much when he can. 1/3 of a small banana is his limit, and he can have that about once a week if he's in a "good" spot of the roller coaster that is his disease. Do you know many 16 month olds that are okay when they are thoroughly enjoying something to eat, and without warning the mommy says, "Sorry, no more", in response to the adorable sign for more that he is giving you with pleading eyes and excited squeals, jumps and wiggles. I do. Not at first, but now he's gotten used to it, and it makes me sad. It tears at my heart that I can't give him more of his yummy banana. I suppose it's also good, the fits were harder on both of us. It's just hard because it's not as though he's begging me for Coke or a new car. He just wants some banana to fill his tummy that isn't full yet and it's just so tasty.
Sometimes I don't like my job.
Now for the remembering ...
When Sam and I were first married we went to his sisters house (hi Deb!). She was managing a hotel, and by managing I mean doing everything, from cleaning the rooms to living in the small apartment attached to the noisy nasty bar that kept her two small children awake at night, that kind of everything. I don't know how she did it. Not only did she do that, but her house was immaculate, I mean white glove clean immaculate, and her children were happy and well taken care of.
It was a get to know you visit, as our other two meetings were less than ideal circumstances to get to know each other. One was our wedding and the first was a family tragedy situation. So really, this is the first time we are chatting and trying to figure out how to be related to each other. As we sat at the kitchen table and conversed, I happened to find a spot of sticky strawberry jelly underneath the table. I didn't want to be rude so I tried wiping it on my pants and being discrete about it. I think I was successful as I am fairly certain that the first time she hears of this unfortunate incident will be when she reads this post. Get ready for the unfortunate part.
As I am discretely wiping the jelly on my pants, I am thinking to myself, "When I have kids I will make sure not to have any sticky stuff on my things." Go ahead, gasp. It's awful I know. It wasn't anything like I didn't enjoy her company, or thought she was a bad person, it was just that I knew I was going to be able to keep sticky off of places that sticky shouldn't be. Don't worry I got what was coming to me, show up at my house anytime and you'll see plenty of sticky!
I think I was meant to find that microscopic spot of jelly. Hidden on the underside of the table, in a house that could rival any hospital I've been to, was a lesson for me that would be years in the making.
In remembering this experience from so long ago, while watching my sweet little boy doing his banana dance, I realized something. Sticky should be everywhere. As moms we just need to celebrate the sticky and quit trying to pretend that it's any other way. Think of the stress that would leave our lives! Kids are messy. Why are we trying so hard to fight it?
Ellie loves to 'paint' her hand prints on me while she's wet from a shower. She is tickled just knowing she has made her mark. Our children want to leave an impression. Sometimes we are so busy cleaning them up that we don't even see who they are are. Things are so much more clear with Malachi. I wasted a lot of time cleaning up my other children in their earlier years. Time that could have been spent getting to know them better.
I would love to be scraping guests free of my chairs due to banana sticky. Just for me, will you give your kids their favorite food, let them get messy with it, and then have them put their hand print on your favorite things to keep clean. Then, resisting all evil urges, leave it there. Just for me, be the mom that has her guests thinking, "I won't be like that when I am a mom." Be that mom, and let your children leave their mark. You'll be better for it.
I am seriously glad to be done typing the word banana. Try it over and over again, your brain won't like it. At least mine didn't!
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