Every now and then you have one of those crazy days. Okay, most of my days are crazy, but every now and then I get one that would have Keith Richards saying, "Nothing I could smoke would get me through that." Yesterday was that day.
The end is nigh for the OC school year, which translates into B being gone all the time, and me having to get creative to survive the day. Lately, things have been Uber Nuts due to me trying to get the house refinanced (we close in mid May--huzzah!) and I've been collecting estimates for windows, so the kids' bedroom windows can be replaced.
After a full day of wondering where I left my brain, evening arrives and B leaves. Livi promptly smears cookie in her hair. It's Oreo--pure lard. Sigh. This means an unscheduled bath. I fix up a video that I know she wouldn't like but Eef would enjoy, and off to bath time we go. Okay, it's not too bad, aside from her emptying half of the contents of the bathtub onto the floor. At least I was able to get the laundry folded and put away--so we must look on the bright side, right? Right?! I mop up the floor and Livi promptly goes NUDIE. This is when she refuses to get her diaper on and runs all around the house squealing and dodging your every attempt to capture her. This is cute, but it's risky. The fates were not smiling that day. Livi starts screaming and backing away from the tell-tale puddle on her carpet like it's Richard Simmons selling insurance. I assure her and mop up this puddle as best I can, while doing yoga-like maneuvers to reach her diaper. You would think she would have learned and been eager to don the diadie, right? WRONG. I have to catch and wrangle her like a steer. Finally, diaper and PJs on, it's Eef's turn. (Sound of knuckles cracking).
Eef screams bloody murder all the way to the bathroom. He has made it quite clear that he does NOT want to pee in the potty and he does NOT want to take a bath. Tough cheese. I refuse to have the child who smells like rotting goat feet. To help make bath time more interesting, I have left a pump in the water. "See Ethan?" I explain, "When you put this in the water and press it, water comes up through the bottom and you squirt it out!"
Ethan studies this and decides he can kill me later. I suds him up and start cleaning. I notice Ethan is whimpering. Hmm...no soap today? Then I notice he's holding the pump and yanking at it--but it's stuck to something. Anyone want to guess what my son tried to pump? Close! His ball-sack. Part of one of his bits is stuck in the tube. WHY?!!!! How do I fix this one, Dr. #@*&! Spock? The reality of the situation hits me and I have an uncontrollable urge to giggle. This, of course, is that last thing I can do. I manage to get the nut from the pump (thank you soap), and what does Ethan do? He starts to do it again! "NO!" I holler. "Let's play with...anything else." Luckily, Eef moves onto greener pastures. So, a few minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom triumphant, with only a few minor lacerations and the knowledge that Ethan is clean. And to what do my wandering eyes appear but Livi.....soaking wet.....doused in milk....along with the living room carpet. She has done 3 naughty things in 1. She 1.) Grabbed something off the table, which is off-limits, 2.) Taken a drink into the living room and 3.) Plunged her fist into said drink. (Which then cheerfully cascaded onto the carpet and all over her.
I am entering a new orbit of pissed that scientists have not yet discovered. I calm myself, and then take her into her bedroom and spanked her. I surprise Ethan by plopping his milky sister into the bath (screaming her head off), which starts to freak him out. He is headed towards a classic Autistic Melt-down-down-down. I manage to head it off at the pass with promises of Baby Einstein, rainbows, magic llamas, whatever. After PJ-ing him and World of Colors in the player, I return to the Milky Wonder and re-bathe her. At this point, hard liquor is starting to sound appealing. I put fresh PJs on her, and sniffling, she asks, "Rocky Bye?" which means she wants me to cuddle her and sing to her. I feel like a Cow Pat. I snuggled her, reassuring her that yes, I still love her, and no, the End of the World was not upon us. Needless to say, I put her and the Almost-One-Nut-Wonder to bed early. I managed to get up the worst of the milk from the carpet, but it's still crunchy. In fact, I still haven't gotten it clean, because I now have a Rodent from Hades terrorizing my lawn. I now understand why my Grandpa sat on his porch, and waited until a gopher (that had been destroying his yard) popped his head up, only to have itself blown to bits with a powerful shotgun blast. My Grandpa took no chances and used the same gun and ammo that he hunted grizzlies with. He blew a massive hole in his yard, and no gopher was left to bury. Just a few fluffs of fur. I would love to do that to this mole. Nothing would give me greater pleasure. Cheers.
The end is nigh for the OC school year, which translates into B being gone all the time, and me having to get creative to survive the day. Lately, things have been Uber Nuts due to me trying to get the house refinanced (we close in mid May--huzzah!) and I've been collecting estimates for windows, so the kids' bedroom windows can be replaced.
After a full day of wondering where I left my brain, evening arrives and B leaves. Livi promptly smears cookie in her hair. It's Oreo--pure lard. Sigh. This means an unscheduled bath. I fix up a video that I know she wouldn't like but Eef would enjoy, and off to bath time we go. Okay, it's not too bad, aside from her emptying half of the contents of the bathtub onto the floor. At least I was able to get the laundry folded and put away--so we must look on the bright side, right? Right?! I mop up the floor and Livi promptly goes NUDIE. This is when she refuses to get her diaper on and runs all around the house squealing and dodging your every attempt to capture her. This is cute, but it's risky. The fates were not smiling that day. Livi starts screaming and backing away from the tell-tale puddle on her carpet like it's Richard Simmons selling insurance. I assure her and mop up this puddle as best I can, while doing yoga-like maneuvers to reach her diaper. You would think she would have learned and been eager to don the diadie, right? WRONG. I have to catch and wrangle her like a steer. Finally, diaper and PJs on, it's Eef's turn. (Sound of knuckles cracking).
Eef screams bloody murder all the way to the bathroom. He has made it quite clear that he does NOT want to pee in the potty and he does NOT want to take a bath. Tough cheese. I refuse to have the child who smells like rotting goat feet. To help make bath time more interesting, I have left a pump in the water. "See Ethan?" I explain, "When you put this in the water and press it, water comes up through the bottom and you squirt it out!"
Ethan studies this and decides he can kill me later. I suds him up and start cleaning. I notice Ethan is whimpering. Hmm...no soap today? Then I notice he's holding the pump and yanking at it--but it's stuck to something. Anyone want to guess what my son tried to pump? Close! His ball-sack. Part of one of his bits is stuck in the tube. WHY?!!!! How do I fix this one, Dr. #@*&! Spock? The reality of the situation hits me and I have an uncontrollable urge to giggle. This, of course, is that last thing I can do. I manage to get the nut from the pump (thank you soap), and what does Ethan do? He starts to do it again! "NO!" I holler. "Let's play with...anything else." Luckily, Eef moves onto greener pastures. So, a few minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom triumphant, with only a few minor lacerations and the knowledge that Ethan is clean. And to what do my wandering eyes appear but Livi.....soaking wet.....doused in milk....along with the living room carpet. She has done 3 naughty things in 1. She 1.) Grabbed something off the table, which is off-limits, 2.) Taken a drink into the living room and 3.) Plunged her fist into said drink. (Which then cheerfully cascaded onto the carpet and all over her.
I am entering a new orbit of pissed that scientists have not yet discovered. I calm myself, and then take her into her bedroom and spanked her. I surprise Ethan by plopping his milky sister into the bath (screaming her head off), which starts to freak him out. He is headed towards a classic Autistic Melt-down-down-down. I manage to head it off at the pass with promises of Baby Einstein, rainbows, magic llamas, whatever. After PJ-ing him and World of Colors in the player, I return to the Milky Wonder and re-bathe her. At this point, hard liquor is starting to sound appealing. I put fresh PJs on her, and sniffling, she asks, "Rocky Bye?" which means she wants me to cuddle her and sing to her. I feel like a Cow Pat. I snuggled her, reassuring her that yes, I still love her, and no, the End of the World was not upon us. Needless to say, I put her and the Almost-One-Nut-Wonder to bed early. I managed to get up the worst of the milk from the carpet, but it's still crunchy. In fact, I still haven't gotten it clean, because I now have a Rodent from Hades terrorizing my lawn. I now understand why my Grandpa sat on his porch, and waited until a gopher (that had been destroying his yard) popped his head up, only to have itself blown to bits with a powerful shotgun blast. My Grandpa took no chances and used the same gun and ammo that he hunted grizzlies with. He blew a massive hole in his yard, and no gopher was left to bury. Just a few fluffs of fur. I would love to do that to this mole. Nothing would give me greater pleasure. Cheers.
What kind of pump was it?
ReplyDeleteIt was an old pump from our body wash. We buy the econo-size, so it was a decent sized pump that I thought he might have fun with. I didn't know he'd do THAT.
ReplyDelete