Macaroni Power

Once upon a time, before the advent of slumber parties and hulu, Friday nights were Forced Family Fun nights. We ate junk food and sipped root beers while we played board games. The boys and I planned for Fridays all week long, hammering out important questions like, “Pizza or nachos?” and “Monopoly or LEGO Star Wars?” For the record, I started opting for LEGO Star Wars because I got sick and tired of being bankrupted by a seven year old. When the big day finally came around, Little Man (aka: Captain Awesome) would catch the bus to school while Trooper and I got busy cleaning the house.

On the particular morning I’m remembering, the house needed more attention than usual but all I could think about was the warm, fuzzy blanket on the couch and how nice it was to have Trooper cuddled up next to me watching cartoons. As a result, when the bus pulled off that morning I curled up with Trooper on the couch and fell instantly, blissfully asleep.

Why is it that when we compromise it is our loved ones who seem to suffer the most? When I woke up and realized how far behind schedule I was, I panicked. I began to clean like a madwoman, brushing off poor little Trooper’s repeated attempts to help with phrases like, “This is a Mommy-sized job. Go play.” I was making pretty good time this way until I began to unload the dishwasher. That's when I hit a speed bump. I wanted to ‘get it done’ so that I could tackle the mountain range of dirty dishes covering my kitchen counters. Trooper, though, was in a helpful mood and he knew that unloading the dishwasher was a job just his size because it has been his job for nearly six months now.

Have you ever watched a preschooler unload a dishwasher? It is excruciating. Painful, even. I am fairly certain that this in the only span of daylight that my young son moves at less than 90 miles per hour. He is ‘busy’ by nature and never really walks anywhere but rather dances everywhere. I’ve worked a long time to make sure he understands the importance of walking slowly with mommy’s dishes and he is ever so careful with them now. He practically tiptoes, cradling one dish in his two little hands, all the way to the other side of the room and puts it away. He then allows himself a little victory dance for being so clever before running over to the dishwasher for another plate or bowl to put away. The concentration needed for this harnessing of energy is immense and he is so relieved by the time it is time to put away the ‘plastic’ and the ‘silverware’ that he is back to dancing his way to the pantry where they belong, even more hyper than when the dishwasher was opened.

Please remember, I was a woman on a mission. I had a house to clean and a meal to cook so that I could relax and have Forced Family Fun Night with my children, come Hell or high water!

My youngest son, oblivious to my personal mission statement and the exasperated looks I was giving him, was nearly finished unloading the dishwasher when he began a kung-fu style fight with an invisible foe. He whirled and kicked and began to make ‘cool’ sound effects like “whoosh” and “kaPOW” in all the right places-- all while wielding a dripping silver colander and a dangerous looking wooden spoon. The fight must not have been going well for him because as I opened my mouth to tell him Just hurry up!, he pulled out the big guns. Before I could get the words out, he thrust the colander into the air and brandished his spoon with a flourish and shouted, “MACAWONI POW-WAH!”

I’m not sure where Macaroni Power rates when compared to Superman and the Justice League or the X Men and the Mutant League but I know that it had an immediate effect on me. Instead of hurrying my son along, I found myself thinking, “I did it again.” I got so caught up in ‘how’ I could get things done that I forgot ‘why’ I was doing them. Wasn’t the whole point of cleaning the house so that I could spend time with my children? It took a new and dubious superpower to remind me of that little fact.

Macaroni Power, who knew?


(rewrite, original 02/2008)