What on Earth Was I Thinking?

I have no idea what on earth possessed me to make the purchase that I did this past Monday. Maybe it was the same crazy thing that possessed me to tell that doctor in that sterile, cold room one day back in February of '02, "Please Doctor, put back three embryos. Maybe one will take." Yes, it was as crazy as that.

Moseying through the isles at Target, Chatty-Cathy Annie in tow, I saw what I believed would be a great artsy activity for my two older girls to enjoy. So I not only bought one, but rather, I bought two!

Two very large boxes overflowing with little plastic beads for making different ornaments. The ones that require you to gingerly place the beads on little pegs of various shapes. The ones that also require you to set the warm iron on top to melt them into place. I'm convinced that I was experiencing a temporary loss of sanity when I tossed them into my shopping cart, excited by the reaction I knew I would receive from my crafty girls.

Without another thought given to it, I made my purchase and hid them in the guestroom bathtub until it was time to wrap them.

It was somewhere in between rounding up the kids and tucking them into bed, and a new episode of Intervention on A&E, that I came to my senses. It was while wrapping the over-sized boxes and really investigating the number of those little plastic beads that I stopped and asked myself, What.on.earth.were.you.thinking?

The box proudly proclaims, "Over twenty different colors to choose from. WARNING-Choking hazard-small parts"

What it should have read was WARNING-Mess hazard. Over 3000 small parts (6000 for you dumb woman since you bought 2 boxes) to be scattered all about your kitchen floor, and your bedroom floor, and your kids' bedroom floors, and wherever else they drag their bags of little plastic beads!

I'm not sure if I was dumber for buying them, or dumber for proceeding in my wrapping of them, and then proceeding to allow my two clumsy crafty girls to unwrap them for a gift this morning. No matter the case, I WAS DUMB--END OF STORY!!! I wasn't disappointed in the reaction I got from the girls. They were extremely excited and eager to open their new bead activity set. Like a diligent mom, I gave the lecture, all the while knowing it wasn't going to be a purposeful disposal of the tiny,little beads, but rather it would be an accident. Never-the-less, I gave the talk.

"Girls, you need to understand that if these beads get spilled onto the floor, I am not going to clean them up. You will either clean up the mess yourself to save the beads, or I will suck them up with the vacuum and empty all the beads into the trashcan. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mom. We'll keep the bag zipped so they don't fall out. It would ruin the vacuum anyway."

I knew, that I knew, that I knew, I should have saved myself the trouble and sucked them right then and there into the vacuum. I would have saved myself the stress and anger that was in my near future!

It wasn't 20 minutes later that I heard what sounded like a hail storm coming from the kid's eating area. Within seconds after that 20 minutes, I heard the cries and screams of a child that was envisioning her 3000 beads being sucked into the vacuum. Immediately following that 20 minutes plus a few seconds were the remorseful words flowing out of a little sister's mouth, "Sawy, Bella, Sawy. "

I didn't even look. I continued applying my make-up and styling my hair, more angry at myself than at the guilty little one, because I was in fact the idiot that made the purchase.

And then, I couldn't adhere to my original rule, for it wasn't Bella who made the offense, but her little sister. So I helped clean up the mess.

And, I gave another lecture...

Twenty minutes later, another hail storm!

I may be dumb once, even twice, but for this woman, third time is NOT a charm. Therefore, this gift is the shortest lived gift in the history of the Kamahi household. Shorter than the finger paints, shorter than the ink stamp set that requires three baths before the last of the ink has disappeared, even shorter lived than the cheap, no brand play-doh that leaves more play-do stuck to your fingers than the sculpture you are sculpting.

I can't take back my crazy, February of '02 decision of putting back three embryos, nor would I want to, but I can change my mind about housing 6000 little plastic beads in a bin where little hands can reach. All within and hour, they were unwrapped, spilled across the floor twice, cleaned up twice, and retired to an area of the house more under lock-and-key than the medicine bin itself.

And I'm still, to this minute, asking myself, "What on earth, was I thinking?"

The only thing I can say for myself is, I now know what to buy for that kid whose parents are not my favorite!