Oma just had surgery last Friday. In true Kraut style, she's up and running again already. And when I say running, I mean it as the surgery was for incontinence and all the problems haven't quite been solved yet but will as her body heals. You should have seen her at the hospital. When she was first asked to get up and move, the pain was pretty intense, so she was offered and accepted some Dilauded. If you've never seen an 81 year old woman stoned, it's quite priceless. Her loopy smile and her "Wow, I've never felt so relaxed!" were hysterical. We ordered her dinner -- mac and cheese -- and she says "Don't forget the salad dressing!" I looked at her funny as we hadn't ordered any salad. She said, in the painstakingly clear way people talk when they can't feel their lips "It's for the macaroni, I always do that, it's not like a pregnancy craving or something." At 81 years old, pregnancy cravings aren't the first things that pop into one's head when looking at her!
Of course I brought her back with me to my ambient level of chaos. I had assumed that I would continue to take all three kids with me as she isn't to lift and needed to rest. Sure enough, Monday morning, she assures me she's quite all right with taking care of the two little ones while I dash up with Angelina to drop her off at school.
Mom always has a bit of an agenda when it comes to visiting. If she can quietly prostheletize my kids, she's going to. If she's going to tell a story, it will just as often as not be a Bible story. While this annoys me, I find it opens topics for conversations and I don't want the kids to NOT believe, but as we are coming up upon Easter, I also don't want them to think that THEY, because of their sins, are responsible for Jesus' death. That's way too heavy for little kids. At this age they don't have sin, responsibility, or need to know anything but that God and Angels love them. Mom has found a receptive audience in Lexie.
I on the other hand, will often try to teach important points in a less conventional way. The unloading of the dishwasher has always been a source of strife, so I was trying to teach them that we should function as a family, and as a team. As is often the case, I teach in the car -- when they're strapped down they listen better and strapping them down is rather frowned upon in other circumstances. I'm sure there are a million stories that would be more appropriate, but I told them the joke about how the brain was boasting "I am the most important of all, without ME, none of you would know what to do!" The heart chimed in as to why IT was the most important, then of course a chorus of body parts claiming and defending their claim as to why their function was all important. Then the butt hole calmly and quietly decided to show them all that they needed to work together, and that he, the lowliest and most contemptible was just as important as all of them. He shut up. Soon the brain felt sluggish, the heart felt listless, the other body parts were feeling ooky and woozy and they called down to the butt hole to see why he wasn't working. He told them that they'd all been boasting so much about themselves, that he thought maybe they weren't acting as a team anymore. He made each one admit that without him, and all the others, they didn't function as well. He made them see that they needed each other and needed to work together. Of course they had great fun trying to tell each other that THEY were the butt hole. "No YOU are!" "No YOU are!" This made me want to bang my head on the steering wheel.
Sometimes kids don't quite get the takeaway you intended. And sometimes my choices come back to haunt me out of the mouths of babes -- usually Lexie.
Mom is always seeing beautiful things in our environment. She's fun to have around as she'll point out beautiful clouds or flowers. She finds reasons to be thankful and grateful. As I was dashing around to get Thing #1 ready for swim lessons, I heard her talking with Lexie about how brilliant God is to have designed our bodies the way they are. She explained how she was healing from the surgery, and Oh, look at that pretty cloud, isn't it fun that we can see? Didn't God do a wonderful job making us so we can see? And our brains! So that we can understand what we see? Mom begins extolling the joys of each body part when I hear Lexie, in quintessential Lexie volume shout "Don't forget the BUTT HOLE!" Well if THAT doesn't stop a dashing Mom in her tracks, I don't know what would.
To Mom's credit, she didn't miss a beat -- although I did hear an odd choking sound for a moment --, and just agreed that the bum bum was very important too, and off they went with their discussion.
It's a match made in heaven. My 81 year old charmingly church lady mom, and a too smart for words five year old. Oh what a laugh of pure delight God must have had watching them.
