This is Raphael’s latest catch phrase. Anytime someone tells him to do something (or more likely to stop doing something) he responds with a question: “Mama says?” Other times he asks “Papa says?” or even “Eamon says?” And it’s only after he hears an affirmative answer that he considers complying.

It hasn’t taken me long to realize why this phrase has caught his ear. Countless times during the day, I hear the older kids saying things like, “Mama says it’s time to clean up” and “Mama says to sit with the baby for a minute.” Other times it’s simpler still: “Share! Mama says.”

I do sometimes feel like I am shouting into the wind around here, but today this little phrase — along with the weight it appears to carry — makes me feel important. Special. And it reminds me: Mama had better watch out what she says. Because someone is listening.

I know I have been so very bad at keeping up with Eamon’s weekly corny jokes gig. Here today, though, in a some small effort to make up for my slackiness, I offer you the following. Not one, but two comedic geniuses in video form. Do enjoy. And, if you are an 8-12 year old boy (or live with one) share your own corny jokes in the comments.

And yes, that’s me cracking up at the end of Ambrose’s performance. I couldn’t help myself.

The mud season is upon us. The sweeping season has begun. The kids-in-and-out-of-the-house-all-day-long and slamming-the-front-door-behind-them-every-single-time season has finally arrived. As anyone could tell by the condition of my wood floors yesterday after dinner.

Yikes.

I think I swept the floors at least a dozen times yesterday. And I know I mopped them once. Which meant they looked beautiful (the new ones anyway) for about 45 seconds. It was a good 45 seconds. I tried to bask in it. But it was over all too soon.

After dinner yesterday, I stood next to my husband holding the baby in our quiet, empty, sandy house. The older kids, thrilled at the prospect of after-dinner outdoor play, had abandoned us. This is one nice thing about the sweeping season, I have discovered. Fewer children in the house. Happy children outdoors. Exhausted children who fall into their beds and actually sleep at the end of the day.

Last night, as Daniel swiped at my face and slurped on my neck, I looked around and saw dinner dishes piled on the counter. A grungy front door mat. And fresh, muddy paw prints on the dining room floor. I knew that at other times I might feel overwhelmed by this mess, but yesterday I was not.

The work will always be there, I have come to know. There will always be one more floor to mop, one more mat to vacuum, one more dish to scrub. But God has not just infused my children with the gift of springtime energy this year. He has given me renewed strength this springtime too. And, in the form of a smooth-skinned, sweet-smelling, drooling bundle of baby, a new reason to count it all joy.

Well, there isn’t one. Except that if you’ve sent anything to danielle@daniellebean.com I haven’t gotten it. Use this one instead.

and your mother tells you can go for a walk after lunch,

This is what you wear all morning. And this is how you eat your pasta and tomato sauce lunch. With your coat and hat and boots on. Totally ready.

MamaT recommends Mom to Mom.

Besides the usual “Can we watch TV?” and “Tell Juliette to stop it” notes that small people slide under the door to me while I am on the phone, I get this one:

Boston area women might be interetsted in this event taking place this coming Saturday (March 31) at Boston University. Genevieve Kineke and others will be presenting. See her site for details.