In a feeble attempt at easing my guilty conscience, I’ve hired a neighborhood girl to come play with my oldest boys twice a week for about an hour and a half. Unless it’s pouring rain or negative degrees outside, I force her to take them up to the local school and run them around a bit on the play equipment. It works out great for all of us. She gets a little pocket money, the boys get some exercise and fresh air and I get a little peace and quiet–if you can call being home with three babies peaceful or quiet–and a guilt-free conscience twice a week.
Anyway, Mark stayed home from work last week because like an idiot I didn’t finish my first round of antibiotics and my mastitis came back. So I got sick again and he stayed home to pick up the pieces. By the late afternoon I was feeling a bit better and decided to take the babies for a walk while Stevie had the big boys. I had a gift I needed to deliver to a good friend of mine and Caleb needed some fresh air. So I gathered up my sick self and the babies and Mark decided to come too (thank goodness) and off we went. As we walked past the school the big boys excitedly exclaimed that they were digging up ice crystals and that they were going to sell them for money. Oh good, I thought, and have fun.
When we returned from our walk this is what we saw:

And these three salesman sitting on the corner:

And here are the ice crystals that were for sale and no I can’t see them either. But I do see my “craft basket” with no crafty stuff inside anymore but rather a bucket. . . full of. . . muddy chunks of. . . ?

Stevie had very carefully planted herself on our back steps out of sight of any passerbys but still where she could see the boys and make sure they were safe. I think I would have done the same thing. Just about every car that passed by the boys stopped to read their sign and see what exactly they were selling. No one, much to their dismay, had purchsed any yet. Trying to be a good mother and get them inside as quickly as possible, I offered to buy an ice crystal from each of them for a dollar each. No luck. They were bound and determined to sell an ice crystal to a non-related party if it took all night. To simplify the story let’s just say they eventually went inside kicking and screaming, with the promise that they could try again tomorrow.
Now I only wish the story ended here, but it doesn’t. Cause a little while later I found this:

Yeah. . . that’s an ice crystal the boys tried to wash. . . in my bathroom. . . that I had just cleaned. . . . And poor Stevie had mud all over her brand new gloves and pointed out that now she was going to have to go home and wash them and that she hoped they’d be dry by tomorrow. (Denver asked why she couldn’t just put them in the drier and she explained that they would shrink in the drier. Then Denver asked, “And puke will make them shrink too?” I don’t even know why.)
By the following morning I really was hoping that the ice crystals would be forgotten. I suppose I didn’t care so much if the boys wanted to sit out on the corner selling them. I just didn’t know how I was going to supervise them and juggle the twins and Caleb in the freezing cold on my own. If I had been thinking at all, I would have hidden them better. Instead, I put them at the foot of our backstairs right where the boys would see them on their way to scool. And you can be sure, before they left for school that morning, they examined them very carefully and were thrilled that they hadn’t melted overnight and immediately started making plans for their second attempt at selling them.
When I picked Noah up from Kindergarten that afternoon that was the first thing he asked about and he was very insistent that we set up the ice crystal stand as soon as we get home because he had told his entire class about it and he was sure they were all coming to buy some. But, when we got home and he examined them closely he burst into tears. The clumps of ice, or what looked like just mud to me, had apparently melted and were no longer sellable. Oh, the trauma I had inflicted on Noah by not letting him sell them last night!
Desperate to repair the damage, I said that I didn’t think anyone would have bought them anyway (except maybe for Sister Brown) and that maybe we should try selling something a little more marketable, like fresh-baked cookies. I still had no idea how I could possibly finagle a cookie stand, let alone fresh-baked ones, and the three babies but it was worth a try. Noah refused to believe that no one would by the ice crystals and when I asked him what kind of person he thought would buy one, he said, sobbing, “I would.” At that point my heart broke into a million tiny pieces because where I just saw a messy clump of mud, Noah saw diamonds and I had let him down–severely. And to make matters worse, Noah then proceeded to explain that he was just trying to earn some money to give to me and now he never could without his ice crystals which he had worked so hard on digging out of the ground. Pretty much, I have yet to recover from the trauma of letting him down so terribly. He moved on rather quickly when he realized it was “game day” and he could get back to his Zelda game. But me. . . not even close. Why couldn’t I just be like Noah and see the beauty in everything–even muddy clumps of goo? Then maybe none of this would have ever happened.























