Today I might possibly be the crabbiest human on the face of planet earth.
OK, maybe the crabbiest human in the universe.
Yeah, that about sums it up.
So why why WHY would Bubbalu choose this day to break his own "see how many forbidden things I can get into and destroy/maim/render useless/deface/shred/combust" record?
Methinks it may have something to do with the 4:30 wake-up. He stealthily crept into our bedroom and from 3 inches away stared at my face until I startled awake.
"Mommy, I has to go potty".
On one hand, hip hip hurray to Bubbalu for staying dry all night long as a JUST turned 3 yr old. On the other hand, Bubbalu has a hard time going to the potty by himself and needs Mama (*AHEM* or PAPA...) assistance.
As a parent, some days are SO frustrating and mind-numbingly exasperating that you just HAVE to make a choice to choose joy. You can choose to completely lose it, or you can smile, laugh and go about your day.
Today, Bubbalu has been very...uh...inventive in his creativity and pursuit for knowledge and the inner workings of, well, EVERYTHING.
Near the end of this trying day, Bubbalu cajoled Lil Chick to once again climb the stairs and go and play in Mommy and Daddy's bedroom. Normally this is just fine as I have a strategically placed basket of books, dolls and cars for them to play with instead of wreaking havoc. I was downstairs in the laundry room, and having a dryer that isn't QUIET covers up the kids being TOO QUIET.
You know, the TOO QUIET that causes you to run. No, SPRINT.
I was just thinking to myself, "Hmmm, wonder what they're up to?" and heard a loud THUMP. Then a few more. THUMP thump THUMP.
What in the world are they up to!?
Raced upstairs to find that Bubbalu had located Mama's Christmas wrapping paper stash hidden under the bed...in a huge plastic under the bed type storage bin.
How how HOW he managed to pull it out (it is HEAVY - remember, I shop at Costco. Costco has AWESOME wrapping paper. True to their norm, you get a LOT of wrapping paper per roll. Each weigh a TON...and I had at least four of those in there as well as numerous other paper rolls), unlatch both handles and get the double sided lid off is a mystery to me.
Then he must have decided that since it was hidden under the bed, put away neatly and clearly MEANT for him, he started to investigate.
Really now, it wasn't that bad. From my view into our bedroom I just had to take a deep breath and just choose joy. Choose to smile and not to scream.
Then I followed a paper trail into our master bathroom.
And again had to CHOOSE JOY...after gasping out loud, of course.
Bubbalu had triple lined every square inch of the place with wrapping paper.
BRIGHT, GLASS HALF FULL SIDE:
-my previously undecorated for the holiday season bathroom is now VERY festive -my boy understands which colors coordinate perfectly for wrapping -my boy knows QUALITY paper...he chose the best, most expensive wrapping paper for his "decorating" -my boy knows how to entertain his younger sibling for great lengths of time -my Christmas wrapping paper stockpile is now so low I must replace some posthaste -my paper recycle bin is VERY full
And that is it. No DARK, GLASS HALF EMPTY side. Why???
Because THIS Mama, despite starting the day off as the crabbiest human in the universe, is choosing JOY...
A
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I am renaming Bubbalu as Destructo Boy. I will applique his new initials "DB" onto his superhero cape as well as spray paint his initials and logo onto his trike.
A small sampling of Destructo Boy's recent accomplishments:
- got into my toiletries and sprayed an entire small bottle of perfume all over my walk in closet, our clothes and Lil Chick. Husband will be thrilled to find he now smells like a woman. Discovery of crime due to Lil chick screaming in protest. Apparently she thought she was sufficiently fragrant.
- broke 8 candy canes into thousands of tiny pieces. Not such a huge tragedy as I can now make white chocolate peppermint bark.
- unwinding an almost full bobbin of elastic thread and stringing all about the living room. Discovery of crime due to Lil Chick screaming in protest. Apparently she didn't like having elastic thread woven around her NECK and cutting into her skin.
- dumped the newly reorganized, size appropriate, freshly washed and laundered (like ONE hour ago) top drawer of clothes of Lil Chick's dresser. ONTO Lil Chick. Once again, discovery of crime due to Lil Chick screaming in protest. Apparently she didn't like having a drawer on her foot.
- discovered an unattended container of itty bitty black beads and proceeded to unscrew lid and dump them all over the carpet. "They have holes in dem Mommy, little holes in dem!" Turns out that was too boring so he sat at my sewing desk and proceeded to unwind and tangle as many different bobbins he could in a limited amount of time. And let me tell you, that boy is efficient.
- picked out itty bitty black beads off of the carpet one by one and put them back into their container (punishment).
- but that was boring so he dumped the entire refilled container of itty bitty black beads into an empty, open bottomed sewing machine case sitting on the carpet.
- picked out itty bitty black beads off of the carpet one by one and put them back into their container (punishment WITH supervision).
- reset the thermostat. One again, that boy is efficient when time constrained. I'm hoping he'll give me a tutorial of the thing.
- discovered unattended new container of Soft Scrub on kitchen counter. Discovered how to climb ONTO kitchen counter. Discovery of crime due to appearance of soft scrub container sitting in a puddle of squeezed out product.
- attempted to pry metal labels off my Father's legal office file cabinets. Fortunately was unsuccessful.
- also attempted to push every button, turn every knob and try every handle in the interior of aforementioned legal office. ( I fled the office after 5 minutes fearing Destructo Boy's Rate of Destruction was going to multiply exponentially.)
- decided that his nap chart in his room was a stupid place to have stickers. During nap time (where's that sarcastic font???) stickers were relocated to finished wood closet doors. Why not?
All this along with eleven hundred ninety seven near misses and Mama interventions.
And I wonder why I'm exhausted at 7:42 PM?
A
*** ALSO: Vintage Dutch Girl has a fan page on Facebook! If you are on Facebook, do check it out HERE and make my day by becoming a fan.
( psst! You want to see some grown folk cry the Boo Mama coined "ugly cry"? Force them to witness a newly adopted child be brought home and placed into his exuberant and loving new Mamas' arms. Yep, ugly cry. But a GOOD ugly cry.)
Today, I witnessed my Father in court (haven't seen that since I was probably ten), who represented my Sister and Brother in law, as they finalized/re-adopted their sweet baby boy...my nephew!
It was an awesome day.
Except when Bubbalu bonked the JUDGE on the nose with the balloon airplane toy he was given right before entering the courtroom.
This Mother? Mortified.
The Judge was cool about it. After all, he's worked with my Dad for many years and has a heart for children. He was wiping away tears with the rest of us.
(Besides, I don't think you can hold a 2 year old in contempt of court.)
Welcome to the family Isaiah! We love you and are honored to be your family.
(psst! And your Auntie Amanda ALWAYS has cookies for you. ALWAYS!)
One must not be required to change out of night-time attire. Zip-up footed jammies are acceptable, nay encouraged.
One must not be required to entertain oneself without the aid of a certain babysitter of the screened variety.
One must not be required to eat healthy, nutritiously rounded meals (as if that's the norm - *snort*!)
One is permitted to drink a smoothie (pronounced "smoovie" by the under 3 crowd) in place of a meal.
One carries an 'unlimited juice consumption for duration of sickness' card.
Our sick "smoovie" recipe of the day:
One banana
two scoops chocolate or vanilla ice cream
1/4-1/2 cup peanut butter
chocolate syrup (to taste)
1/2 (ish) cup of milk
Blenderize. Serve to sick little one in old plastic restaurant cup with accordion straw that is guaranteed to leak. IMPORTANT!***One MUST taste test at LEAST 1/2 cup or more of "Smoovie" recipe to determine adequate taste mixage and acceptability***
I cannot stress the taste test enough. It is vital for the recipe's success.
My tomato bandit has struck again. Sure my tomato plants are looking sickly, withered and crispy but they were still producing happy little tomatoes for me to enjoy in my salads.
On the deck I found this:
(Picture me exhaling loudly in frustration)
Then I looked up and saw this:
(Picture me AGAIN exhaling loudly in frustration)
Well Bubbalu, I hope you enjoyed your throwing practice. With all that repetitive throwing motion, I'm wondering if you might have yourself a little case of tomato elbow.
With two littles. One potty training, one nursing.
Whew!
Things we discovered:
- It is shocking how quickly a toddler can trash a campsite.
- Bubbalu LOVES to pee outside, further establishing our "#1 trashiest campsite in the campground" status.
- Lil Chick is a movin' and a shakin'. She is scooting and just starting to crawl around. Here we go! Bubbalu learned to crawl in Spokane, Lil Chick on this camping trip. That's it, I'm not going ANYWHERE else! Lil Chick will stand up and recite the Heidelberg Catechism Q & A Lords Day 1 if I ever leave on another trip again....not that reciting the Catechism is bad...it's just TOO. STINKIN. FAST.
- Sunscreen in an spray can is AWESOMENESS.
- Bubbalu loves to say "AWESOMENESS!".
- An air conditioned motorhome is FAR superior to NON air-conditioned sweltering house that hit 95 INSIDE while we were gone.
-Potty training is set on the back burner while camping. This may be due to a specific ginormo poo in the underwear incident that I'd just as soon like to forget about. Underwear was tossed into double layer plastic zip-top baggies, squished with some laundry soap (kinda like those friendship bread baggies. "Day #3 - Squish the bag" - yep, EXACTLY like that) and then promptly thrown out of the motorhome...where it sat until it was time to pack up and go home. Once again, reestablishing our "#1 trashiest campsite in the campground" status.
-Many many MANY baby wipes are used while camping. Face, hands, buns, tables, high chair, legs, chairs, neck...you get the picture.
-Showering the children outside using the handy-dandy outside shower attachment on in-law's trailer is a GREAT way to prevent the trailer/motorhome gray water tank from filling too quickly. However, once again...#1 trashiest campsite in the campground.
-Giving Bubbalu a haircut outside using your home clipper set and a squirt gun filled with used pool water to wet their hair down doesn't help your "#1 trashiest campsite in the campground" status.
-Showering yourself (in the motorhome INSIDE shower) while STANDING IN A HUGE PLASTIC TOTE BIN and then carrying it outside to dump your shower out also saves your gray water tank, but again, doesn't help your status.
-Neither does pulling a utility trailer complete with two different chipped beyond repair paint jobs (that don't match), zero hubcaps and a horrible case of rust that you store at the entrance to your site covered with a hole-ridden, well past it's prime, bright green tarp.
I'm starting to wonder if the campground owners threw their hands in the air and cheered while we drove away.
However, that was AFTER my husband spilled a couple of gallons worth of raw sewage onto himself and the dump station before we exited the premises.
I love the tomato vine smell on my fingers. You fiddle with the tomato plant a bit, pinching off suckers or draping the stems and leaves on the support wire and all day long you can catch a whiff of that yummy summer scent.
I've been looking forward to tasting that first bite of home-grown tomato goodness. I have three tomato plants currently doing their thing, trying to produce some fruit for me. They were purchased rather late in the game, costing a total of $2.50, so if I get a pound or two of fruit I'll be thrilled.
I've been watching a rather large and juicy looking clump of 6 tomatoes for a few weeks now. They're just starting to lighten and will probably be turning red soon.
However, when I checked them out this morning I couldn't find them. What the heck? Where'd they go?
The plants are up high on my back patio, surely an animal couldn't have gotten to them up there. Maybe some rascally neighbor stole them? Amanda, why would someone sneak onto your back patio in the middle of the night to steal 6 tiny unripe tomatoes? Really now.
I found no evidence of foul play, or animal presence.
What I DID find on the ground next to the back patio under the tomato plants:
A suspiciously gnawed on unripe green tomato that has the distinct teeth markings of a 31.6 pound offspring of mine.
When confronted, the culprit nonchalantly admitted fault.
One year ago Bubbalu discovered a quick and handy backyard thirst quencher at Grandma's house:
And I'm certain it was sanitary and appropriate for holding drinking water.
Really, it was. I helped Grandma scour the thing after watching Bubbalu go back for seconds, thirds and fourths. We decided that copious amounts of fungi and scum might not be grand for the digestive system of an 18 month old.
We hung out at Grandma's house that day because Bubbalu's fun older boy cousins were in town and a play day was deemed necessary.
That, and Mama was one tired and worn out preggo woman who had run out of ideas to entertain her precocious toddler.
The cousins thought Bubbalu was quite silly for drinking out of the water fountain:
But looking on the bright side, he certainly wasn't dehydrated on that scorching hot July day:
Where oh where did our July 2009 sun go? Come back, for I miss thee so. I pulled out my cozy socks and am making soup for dinner. Um...I'm not ready for fall yet. I must have at least three frazzle-inducing camping trips, two unseemly tan lines, and one tired out toddler to meet my summer quota.
It's not looking very good.
Only one camping trip in the works, sunless tanner is providing adequate unlined tannage and the boy is decidedly UNTIRED.
Remember myoh-so-crafty and colorful elephant scrappy silhouette project for Bubbalu's room? They turned out super cute and adorable while adding a bit of whimsy and spunk to his boring cave of a bedroom:
Elmer and Phanty were the perfect pair; a match made in scrapbook heaven, if you will. They enjoyed their mundane yet satisfying life squirting water from their trunks day in and day out.
Sunday afternoon I took a nap. I know, I KNOW, I don't nap. Yet this going on two week sinus infection is kicking my butt, so I actually decided to try and take care of myself and rest a bit. Not that it really worked, being that I'm starting antibiotics today, but whatever.
Anywho. Lance and his brother Shane were downstairs playing Carcassonne and having a grand and very focused time. Bubbalu was upstairs in his room supposedly napping. He is stuck in his room thanks to a gate across the doorway, enforcing the "I don't care if you actually sleep, but you MUST be in your room for at LEAST 2 hours of quiet play time" rule. Also known as the "how Mommy keeps sane" rule.
Bubbalu had his door open during his nap/quiet time, and the menfolk kept saying to each other that they couldn't figure out what Bubbalu was playing with that kept making such funny noises.
I'm awakened two hours later by my husband yelling at me to provide First Aid to my injured child and check him over for more cuts or embedded glass.
What a LOVELY way to wake up from a deep slumber.
Bubbalu had managed to knock Phanty off the wall, smash the glass in the frame and then play with it for a good hour or so. This is all that is left of poor mangled Phanty:
Thankfully, Bubbalu sustained only a few small cuts and hopefully a lesson learned:
Mama on the other hand is still trying to calm her racing heart and convince the adrenaline that really now, the crisis is OVER and she would be glad to see it go now, if you please.
On or about the second week in June I start listening to my Lee Greenwood CD in anticipation of the 4th of July. It reminds me that our freedom was fought for and that I AM proud to be an American.
We had our first major Potty Training "incident" this weekend.
Lord of the Dance in the Poo. Yes, that would be poo on the floor...danced in.
Actually, this happened twice.
I totally deserved it. Here I was, gloating over how fortunate we were to have a 2.5 year old boy who always poops in the toilet. No cajoling, bribing or trickery necessary, he was a natural potty chair user. And as I have defined before, he is NOT potty trained, he is in Stage 2 - Potty Intermediance.
Never gloat during potty training. NEVER. It's apt to rebound and smack ya.
Bubbalu has figured how to get off the toilet by himself. While many parents would consider it normal for children to get on and off the potty by themselves, I am (was) thrilled to beans that he couldn't voluntarily leave the potty premises. I would set him up with books and cars and even a sippy cup because I'm nice like that.
However, he figured it out. He slid off the potty and stood in the hallway peeking around the corner at me as I cooked dinner.
When I noticed him I went to help him back on the toilet and almost stepped in a huge pile of poo.
Eeeewwwww!
And yes, he had walked around in it probably kind of confused as to what it was doing there in the first place. I stood there wondering if I was hallucinating or if there really was a huge pile of poo on the floor mocking me.
Lance was home so we tag teamed. He took Bubbalu and hosed him off in the shower and I was left with the poo cleanup. It's one of those parenting moments where you stand there wringing your hands, not quite sure where to start, and briefly fantasize about running away for a few hours (days).
In the end, anti-bacterial wipes, mopping and re-mopping for good measure took care of the mess.
Good thing I figured out the best poo clean-up method, because when it happened again two days later I barely freaked out.
I told my parents the story and my dad says, "gives new meaning to the three second rule, doesn't it?"
I dropped some chocolate chips on the floor yesterday (hey now, don't judge my chocolate chip consumption) and I almost almost bent to pick them up and eat them.
Then I recalled the poo incidents and decided to let them be.
Hmmm, this potty training thing may be good for my diet...
I woke up late this morning, refreshed and rested. And by late I do mean 8:00 AM. What glorious luxury.
How my life has changed.
Rewind three years and slap self upside the head (which would require a degree in advanced contortionism, but whatever).
Repeat after me: "Girl! Sleep as much as possible! Build up your sleep bank NOW, while you actually have the time, availability and room to do so. Relish your shopping and errand running as you jauntily jump out of the car without undoing 18 million straps, buckles and clips and cinches. Celebrate the lightness of your purse as soon you will be required to carry 37 matchbox cars to stave of toddler tantrums and a half-roll of toilet paper to wipe drippy noses (no, I did NOT have a half roll of toilet paper stuck in my purse that accidentally was pulled out when purchasing a mocha or two at Costco...yesterday...at 1:15 pm). Eat a meal leisurely, without having to refill sippy cups with that gloriously thick and tasty but forbidden (due to excess thigh and waist...uh,padding) whole milk or say for the seventieth time in six minutes, "NO, you may NOT have chocolate chips for dinner". Ponder anew the miracle of not having enough dirty clothes to run a full load. That miracle will end, my dear."
But don't forget the conclusion!, "Girl, you cannot even BEGIN to understand how rich in joy your life will be. Your family will double in two years and you will be a crazy harried Mama. But guess what? Despite the stress and chaos, you will be happy and declare a random morning a GLORIOUS LUXURY".
She will probably need a light burp after her bottle, but it is OK to put her to bed kinda awake. It is OK if she cries. She has a harder time falling asleep if you purposely try to rock her to sleep after a bottle. Lately she also seems to be waking herself up just to play and "visit" with us (little stinker is so cute it’s hard to ignore her) so check on her if you must, but don’t pick her up and let her woo you into playing!
*Bubbalu potty training hints*
-our RULE OF UNDERWEAR, “You can wear underwear if you don’t get it wet or dirty”. Ask him the rule, he knows it and should tell you! -don’t listen to him if he tells you NO when you ask him to go potty. Just tell him, “Bubba, it’s time to go potty NOW”. -DO NOT LEAVE THE TP WITHIN REACH! -he always takes off both his shorts and underwear when going potty -If he says, “NO, (pause pause pause)okayyyyy" that means yes. -If you don’t have his padded toilet seat with you, you have to hold him on the potty or he’ll fall in! -Give him a book or three to read while sitting on the pot. Or else he’ll start exploring and find things to play with (bleach spray, TP handles, etc.
We were invited Saturday to an impromptu swim/BBQ party to celebrate a dear little baby girl's dedication.
The dedication was simple yet meaningful...full of love and drenched in the Spirit.
The pool party invitation caused a moment of panic which necessitated alerting the Postpartum Fashion Emergency Support Group. All ended well, thanks to cleverly hidden elastic and who knows what other genius fabric to svelt-icize me. And a certain fashion consultant angel...you know who you are.
Bubbalu has proven to be a danger around water. And yes, I already knew to be extremely cautious around water with him, but this was a whole new ball game. We were thinking he would clutch us nervously while barely kicking his legs and MIGHT blow some bubbles or sit on the pool steps for a bit by himself. When he jumped off the diving board by himself into the deep end for the 18th or so time we kinda thought that maybe we should start thinking about some swimming lessons for the boy.
Good thing we had one of those toddler lifevesty things on him with 18 clips, cinched straps and head support on it.
Let's just say we got our money's worth on that purchase.
Unfortunately, I've been told that toddler swimming lessons are only to introduce the child to the water and to lessen fear of water instead of actually teaching them to swim.
"Um, Hi, my name is Amanda and I'm just wondering if you offer a class that will INCREASE his fear of water? Maybe a scary video and a terrifying pool demonstration?
Remember this post? Hours and hours (OK, 20 minutes at least) worth of toddlertainment? This is the water toddlertainment summer edition.
I'll remind you again of the time-honored, well known formula:
Toddlers + Water = Hours of entertainment
We all know that a swimming pool is ideal, but sometimes you don't want to go through the whole swimsuit-swim diaper-sunscreen slather routine when it isn't quite hot enough to justify the whole thing. You know they will be shivering and crabby in 14.7 seconds. It's a pain.
And sometimes you just feel lazy.
Ahem.
So, my thrifty easy-peasy solution:
Grab any ole water container. Bucket, basin, large tupperware, tote bin, whatever. (I used a spare plastic tote bin)
Fill halfway with warm water.
Throw plastic measuring cups, ladles and various tub toys in. Don't expect any of it to come back into the house so hold off on the collectibles or items of ANY value.
Spray toddler with sunscreen (yes, I said spray. The spray sunscreen will rock your world).
Hat and sunglasses optional.
Let em at it.
We call it our water station. He knows it's available to play in and spends quite a chunk of time sloshing, splashing and drinking the water.
See the spray bottle? Yes, get one for them at the Dollar Store and let them spray away. Bubbalu keeps our fence, porch, deck, lawn, sandbox, siding, garden, chairs, table and screen door appropriately watered at ALL times.
He's helpful like that.
Enjoy your thrifty fun toddler water stations...but remember to supervise at all times...
No, I am not here doling out wonderful, unbelievable, too-good-to-be-true advice for all who are awash (*ahem*) in the potty training endeavor.
I want advice. I want stories. I want hope.
Here's the deal. Bubbalu is staying dry and dirty-free all day and afternoons. He's wearing big boy (Lightening McQueen!) underwear and is having very few accidents. And when he does have an accident it is of the wet variety, not the other, less desirable option. Phew.
I have absolutely NO idea how to keep a kid dry during naps and bedtime. Does the pull-up wearing phase stretch onward for a few weeks, months, or YEARS? My guess is that complete potty independence is not in the near future but I am questioning the next step.
Do I grit my teeth, coat his bed in plastic and just let him wet his underwear during naps?
Do I shrug and just put on the pull-ups for the next decade?
What I DID do was put his underwear on UNDER his diaper this afternoon, hoping he would feel when he wets and catch himself. By putting on the diaper over his underwear I was hoping to avoid the mound of bedding laundry as my current dryer takes 3 hours to dry a load (no joke). We're all about living green over here.
Also, I want to know what YOUR household does for the naming of #1 and #2. I'm not too sure I want Bubbalu to yell down aisle 11 in the grocery store, "Mommy! I have to go POOP!"
So there you have it. Give me some hints, tips and advice.
I am proposing changing terminology for the newly toilet using littles.
Stage 1 - Potty scheduled:
My Mommy takes me to the bathroom every hour on the hour, before and after meals and before and after naps or bedtime. It's quite an ordeal as I can't pull off my shorts or itty-bitty undies, get on the toilet, or reach the sink to wash my hands. I CAN reach a bunch of other things, though. I usually go, because I am there and all, but I really don't tell her when I have to go.Does she really think this is a superior and time saving method as opposed to wearing diapers? Makes one wonder.
Stage 2 - Potty Intermediance:
My Mommy occasionally reminds me and forces me to at least TRY to use the potty, but I'm starting to figure out that I have to tell her when I need to go. Sometimes I just go in my undies and forget to say anything. Mommy doesn't like that so much.
Stage 3 - Potty Independence:
My Mommy doesn't have to take me to the bathroom or ask if I have to go. I instinctively run to the bathroom and go potty and poo in the toilet. I can even put my undies and shorts back on again. I usually forget to wash my hands...but I'm potty independent, I can't be PERFECT.
We are at stage 1.275 at the moment and I can only hope that we will someday reach potty independence. I haven't had to clean up a dirty diaper in over a week...and can I just say? I am LOVING the lack of gagging on a daily basis. It's quite refreshing.
1. Tear 18 million tiny pieces of toilet paper up and throw half into the toilet and half onto the floor...for decoration.
2. Adjust toilet paper bar up and down, up and down, up and down....to ensure you are responsible for the first incidence of re-drywalling in our new home.
3. Fake Mama out by grunting and groaning loudly...when she comes she will discover that instead of using the potty to poo, you were just pulling off your socks.
4. Sing your ABC'S as loudly as possible...surely this must be the appropriate time and place to practice them.
5. Pull open and empty the convenient little drawer right next to the potty that Mama has stocked with necessary bathroom essentials.
6. Pick at your toenails. After all, you went through so much grunting and groaning (see #3) to get your socks off you may as well make good use of the freed toes opportunity.
7. Pick your nose. Might as well.
8. Notice that Mama forgot to move the soap dispenser out of reach and attempt a hand soap pumps-per-minute record.
9. Gleefully discover that if you can scoot your Cars potty seat back far enough you can play in the toilet water WITH YOUR HANDS! Score!
10. With your new found toilet water access, splash a bunch of the toilet water on the floor. Being that there's a bunch of soap on it already (see #8) you might as well help Mama out a bit and do some mopping. I am certain she would appreciate using toilet water for floor cleaning purposes.
(MAYBE) 11. If you have to, I guess you could pee...but just a little bit, you need to save a whole bunch to wash your Lightening McQueen underwear with. He's been looking like he needs a bath...
So we took the littles to a dinner party on Friday night.
It was a beautifully remodeled, Pottery Barn invoking, magazine photoshoot ready, stylish waterfront abode. I wanted to explore every inch of the place but didn't think our lovely hosts would appreciate me nosing around their laundry room or master bedroom closet.
I alternately spent my time panicking that my sunless tanner was emitting a scent only described by a metallic crossbred with my need-to-be-replaced running shoes and worrying that my toddler might walk up to the host, hold onto her chic capri pants and stare at her intently while filling his diaper with another, even more horrible, scent.
Less than five minutes after arrival Bubbalu threw both of his entertainment (matchbox cars) into the lake, once again solidifying my reasoning for purchasing his toys used. While that was quite entertaining for the rest of the guests I was less than thrilled. What am I going to occupy my inquisitive, stubborn, high energy toddler boy with now? Easy peasy: the neighbors' purple balloon which also ended up in the lake, rocks...which also ended up in the lake, and his sippy cup which ALMOST ended up in the lake. I just didn't want HIM to end up in the lake.
Bubbalu refused to eat his hot dog or anything resembling a normal diet and filled up on tortilla chips and watermelon. Ingenious combo, no? At least he drank milk. Sheesh.
Luckily there was a perfectly adorable chocolate brown lab for him to play with and a whole house full of understanding 'we have SO been there' folks.
Lil Chick blew out her pants while walking in the door which happily gained us private access to the master bathroom for changing duty. Stunning. Both the bathroom AND her diaper. She behaved very well but screamed halfway home to let her Mama know that she did, in fact, leave a bit too late. And by late I do mean 7:30.
