Tag Archives: Murphy’s Law

6 laws on packing with children (Murphy’s Law #10)

photo (23)

There are many uses for packing paper!

This week we are moving for the fourth time in four years. You can imagine how that’s going. Just for fun, I wanted to update and re-post some Murphy’s laws I wrote last year about packing with young children. When I wrote the original post I had about 17 followers for my blog. Now I have a few more than that so here goes:

1. Unless you immediately seal up a box, your toddler and preschooler will unpack as fast as you pack.

2.You’ll pack up the rarely-played-with toys first. The very next day your child will demand to see those toys, even though he or she hasn’t touched them since last Christmas.

3. As you prepare your old house for a showing, your 4-year-old will spill a box of Cheerios and half a jug of milk on the kitchen floor. Your toddler will walk through all of this, slip, fall and start screaming just as you hear the realtor’s key in the front door.

4. The biggest box will become a spaceship (last year) or a pirate ship (this year).

5. Your children will each try out the tape gun and permanent marker. Hide the utility knife or they will try that too.*

6. At least once, you will leave a pink bra and some Buzz Lightyear underwear on the bathroom floor during a showing.

*Update: Yesterday my husband set up our big white screen (from our movie projector) to sell to a guy. Quick as a wink, my two-year-old daughter grabbed the black marker and scribbled a beautiful picture… ALL OVER THE WHITE SCREEN.

I promise you, I don’t make this stuff up. Stay tuned for an updated “Moving With Young Children” later this week.

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Mission Mompossible (Murphy’s Law #3c)

"Sleeping" The first cry from my 20-month-old daughter comes most days at 5:07. If I jump out of bed immediately and sprint to her room I can get to her before she starts full-on crying and wakes her brother.

Then the get-her-to-go-back-to-sleep game begins. I turn on her lullaby CD, make sure she has her soother, two dolls and baby orca stuffie and change her diaper stealthily, all without making too much eye contact.

I know the jig is up if she starts yelling “milkel! milkel!” or “book! book!” If I hear either of those words I know it’s all over. She’s up. I’m up. I turn on the lights.

However… if I successfully change her with no shouts there is a tiny chance she will go back to sleep.

I bundle up an armful of toddler, dolls and “bankies” (blankets) and rock her in our rickety old chair. The chair is on its last legs but the reassuring creaks and cracks lull my little one back to calmness.

Her big blue eyes start to flutter a little and I gather her up, ease her into the crib and tiptoe out of the room. I close her door as quietly as possible then pause at my bedroom door and listen. Music to my ears is hearing my husband and five-year-old son breathing deeply in the big bed; still asleep. Most mornings I hear a chipper little boy voice asking, “Daddy? Is it time to wake up? Where’s Mommy? Can I go find Mommy?”

My favorite days are the days when all three are sleeping and there is a chance for a few minutes alone. I tiptoe down the stairs, quieter than Santa on Christmas Eve.  The bottom step is the worst; no matter where I step, some days it creaks, other days it doesn’t. Once down, I sneak into the kitchen, careful not to turn on many lights.

I flick the switch on the coffee maker. Usually (because Murphy’s Law is always in effect around here) one of the children wakes up the minute the coffee begins to drip. Our coffee maker is so loud that it sounds exactly like the pot full of boiling eggs my grandma used to make when I slept over. If I’m lucky enough to pour some coffee, the three loud beeps signalling that the brewing is finished will most definitely wake someone up and the cry of “Momma! Momma!” begins.

If, by some miracle, no one wakes from the beeps I’ll either knock something over, step on a piece of Lego or crash into the table and break the silence.

The other day I was so eager for some alone time that I crammed my feet into my five-year-old son’s Incredible Hulk socks rather than go upstairs to find my slippers.

Chances are pretty low that the quiet will last longer than 10 or 15 minutes. I admit that I love it when one child wakes before the other. I pour them some milk and have some precious early morning cuddles with them before the sibling rivalry, hugs, yells and laughter begin for another day.

Do any of you get almost desperate for a few minutes of alone time? How do you find it?

hulksocks-500x500(You know you want some.)

You may also like:

Sleeping Through the Night (Murphy’s Law #3a)

4.5 Years of Sleep Deprivation (Murphy’s Law #3b)

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