(that's a WHOLE powdered donut, by the way...O-ie doesn't do anything small)
I have to post some cute pictures, before I describe my toughest 36 hours in parenting, thus far. O-man on the porch, planning his next move...
Snuggle time with daddy....
Daddy and his super-cool dude. (Um...if a *certain* aunt recognizes these shades...yep, they're yours...er should I say your son's. They were left here after a visit when O was just a tiny baby. The moral of this story: Don't leave stuff at our house ~ we adopt.) :o)
(for the record, I had those put safely away to return to the rightful owner, but it's been almost 2 years now...O-ie found them...and well, the rest is history)
Ok, so here's the deal with my 36 hours of parenting torture. The girls had all their art stuff spread out on the living room floor, gearing up to work on some school projects. I went in and suggested they move to their rooms, because I cant' possibly keep O-man out of their hair. Now this, you may say, is where I went wrong. (possibly the truth) See, I'm not a command giving type of mom...I prefer the power of suggestion. Hindsight? Yeah, I should have told them to move the stuff, NOW.O-man grabbed a tube of bright yellow acrylic (as in NOT water soluble) paint, takes off the lid and proceeds to squeeze it all over the living room carpet.
Smack dab in the middle of the room, so no matter how creative I am, I can't manage to hide it under a coffee table or a rug.
Needless to say, this was not one of my prouder moments in parenting...but we won't get into all those details...
M grabs O, takes him in to wash up, and I start to work on my precious carpet. I scrubbed and scrubbed for about 45 minutes. In the meantime, M had taken ALL of their clothes off and set them to soak in a sink full of hot soapy water. So, as soon as I'm done scrubbing my carpet, I head up to their bathroom to start in on their clothes.
Had to change a light bulb first.
No biggie.
So, I'm scrubbing away (in vain) at the clothes ~ which of course were all brand new and being worn for the first time ~ and O-my grabs the OLD bulb (no, not an energy saver ~ thank the Lord!), bashes it on the toilet and POOF! It explodes into a million little shards of glass.
The good news is, everyone is ok. Maybe a little bruised in the ego, but safe and (mostly) happy. I had some humbling apologizing to do to the one (who shall remain nameless) who left the paint on the living room floor ~ admitting to her that it's just carpet. Material. Materials can be replaced. People can not. People are ALWAYS more important than materials.
Why couldn't I have thought of *that* to help stifle my knee-jerk reaction to seeing bright yellow paint on my living room carpet.
In the end, there's a slight hue of yellow in one spot on my living room carpet ~ smack dab in the middle of the room. Luckily it just looks like a...uh...pet stain? *nice*
The clothes I was trying to salvage when the exploding light bulb incident happened...yeah, they didn't make it. Ruined. Every single last one. Oh well, it's just material. My kids are more important to me than the clothes they ruined that day. :o)
So, you think, that took 36 hours? Oh no, my friend. There's more. I'll give you the cliff notes version:
O can now officially scale the already modified (to prevent scaling) crib he sleeps in. I officially have to sleep with one eye open, shower when the girls are home...etc. It's a bit unnerving to wake up to your toddler, who should be secure in his crib, screaming MAMA while running down the hall, or bumping into him as you step out of the shower, again when he should be securely sleeping in his crib...
He (stubborn little fart) refuses to go down the stairs the way he was taught ~ backwards and on his tummy, which resulted in him rolling down a full flight of stairs. Luckily, I saw this one coming and moved the rug that *was* in front of the door, to the bottom of the stairs. Good news, he survived relatively unscathed.
One final little tidbit ~ he can also open the front door:
No rest for the weary here.
~mj~
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