Bowl Me Over!

Most people, I think, are familiar with "the puke bowl." You know, a large bowl that you can thrust in front of a young child who doesn't know enough to get to the bathroom in time. This weekend we became very familiar with it during Griffin's bout with the flu. It was my particular friend until about 3 am, but then as Griffin's little stomach recovered, the bowl was forgotten. Well, not really forgotten--rinsed out and put next to the sink to be washed once the mother had recovered. I can't really be blamed for sleeping as long as possible the next morning, especially knowing what kind of day lay ahead.

Saturday's schedule was packed: There was 9 am dress rehearsal for a Stake Talent Show which I was involved in, an 11 am t-ball game, a 2pm bridal shower, and a 6:30 call time for the show, and somewhere in there we had to devote our attention to our yard which was in need of serious repair. The bowl that had served us so well was no longer the priority it once was. 'Tis the ying and yang of motherhood. What requires our attention at one moment is certainly diverting it from something else as equally important.

By the time I left for the show, our yard, front and back, looked pretty magnificent: Freshly mowed grass, edges trimmed, weeds pulled, roses deadheaded, garden tended, and a newly planted flower bed. The inside of my house, however, was a completely different story: Toys strewn everywhere, muddy footprints on the floor, and dishes piled high waiting to be done. "Ah, well," I sighed to myself. "It'll have to wait. Another day, another dollar."

When our family returned home at 9pm, the house hadn't cleaned itself but we decided to watch The Jazz Singer with our friends anyway. Since they have the luxury of older children, thus built-in babysitting, and we do not, our home tends to be the gathering place on night's like these. Gratefully, they are the kind of friends who don't judge me on the condition of my home, and I am the kind of friend who doesn't judge them for showing up in their pajamas.

"Hey," Shilo started as she walked in the kitchen carrying pasta and sauce in her arms. "I'm going to make some spaghetti, is that okay? I'm starving. Have you guys eaten?"

"No. Fantastic!"

"I also brought this cookie mix if anyone is interested."

"I'm in!"

"Me, too!" Thomas chimed.

"Let me get out this costume," I said. "I'll be right back."

When I came downstairs Angie and Chris had arrived, the pasta was on the stove, and Shilo was mixing the cookies furiously. My head cocked to one side.

"Um...where did you get that bowl?" I asked fearfully.

"I think Thomas got it out for me."

Thomas walked in at that moment. "Uh, Thomas did you get that bowl out?"

"No."

Shilo, still mixing, added, "Well, it was just sitting out on the counter, and I thought--NO!" The thought stopped her cold.

"Yeah. You're mixing the cookies in the puke bowl."

...But the spaghetti was delicious. Like I said, it's good they are the kind of friends who don't judge.