Life at my house is one unending adventure. It amazes me how insanely out of hand my house can seem. And then just when I think we’ve topped ourselves I am reminded that there is no end to the creativity of my children. Or the lengths to which they will go to avoid doing chores, getting along, keeping a clean house clean or acting like actual humans and not wild animals.
Bath time. With little girls it was easy, they played quietly in the tub with toys and soaps and my bathroom survived every evening unscathed. Then they became tweenagers and we added a boy. My bathroom is in danger of falling away from the rest of the house.
It starts out innocently enough. JT runs up to me and says “Ah booble, ah booble, ah booble!!!” This means “BUBBLES WOMAN, BUBBLES!!” So we dash upstairs and I turn on the water, put in the plug and turn to get the bubble to pour in. JT dives headfirst into the tub fully clothed with shoes on. I set down the bubble container to whip off his shoes while he’s still upside down. I also knock over the bottle of bubbles, dumping a full half of the bottle into the tub. We’ve got bubbles.
Now shoes and socks have been removed from the toddler who is now standing in the tub still clothed. I get off the shirt and as he lifts one foot to slide out of the pants, he slips and goes under. I grab him by the arm and pull his laughing self out of the bubbles. He looks like Santa, but we get off the pants and the now 6 pound diaper. The tub is still filling because the diaper has absorbed at least 10 gallons of water. I begin to wonder why we use sandbags to control floods, shouldn’t we just use whatever is in disposable diapers?
Older sister #1 comes in and says “JT, let’s play with the bubbles and gets into the tub with JT, her weight displaces water which results in a tsunami cascading out of the tub and onto the floor. I have prepared for this event a towel is already strategically placed, right next to where the flood is. I sigh and move the towel.
Now that JT is supervised I go downstairs with the dirty laundry so it doesn’t fill up my empty hamper. Dirty laundry on the basement steps is out of sight out of mind. In the hamper I feel compelled to address it. I hear cackling on the move. I go to the stairs and see JT, wet and streaking down the upstairs hallway. I go back upstairs just in time to see JT stand on the step stool and dive face first into the water. The ensuing wave, knocks all the rubber duckies stacked on the tub edge onto the floor. JT stands up and cheers for himself loudly. He and Maddy high five and he slithers out of the tub again. He sprints down the hallway, dripping wet and climbs onto my bed pillows. I grab him, but his arm slips out of my grasp and he’s off and across the bed and back out again. I get to the bathroom behind him, just in time to see him climb into the toilet and just stand there. In the toilet. In the toilet.
I lift him out of the toilet and plunk him into the bathtub. I wash him all over, the feet and legs twice. He is clean again. I get him out and wrapped in a towel. He squirms and thrashes until I let him get down. And he’s off. I corner him in his room and we argue over diaper, but he releases my hair and I agree to let him wear the minion shirt for the 2nd night in a row and just like that he’s got pajamas on.
I go back into the bathroom to hang up towels and dry up and Older sister #2 is now in the shower. With the inner liner outside of the tub. Outside of the tub. Pouring water onto the floor. I use the last towel to mop up the mess and put the liner back in. I look for a place to hang up the wet towel, but there are 7 hanging towels. No place for this one. I turn around in time to see the toilet paper roll running out as JT has taken the end of it and gone running, he’s trailing half a roll’s worth behind him. Well it’s out of here at least.
I scoop up the pile of dirty laundry from the floor and notice at least 4 items are from yesterday’s marathon laundry folding session. They haven’t been worn.
“Maddy! What is all this clean laundry doing in the bathroom?” I call down the hallway.
“Oh, I couldn’t decide what pajamas to wear, and those were the discards.” She says to me in her distracted voice.
I chuck the whole pile in the direction of her room and yell “then come pick them up, I am not folding them.”
I then hear the toilet lid and look back in the bathroom. Standing in the toilet, in pajamas, rinsing his pacifier. The Toddler. The laughing Toddler. And it’s out of the toilet and into dry pajamas. During this time, Older Sister #2 has gotten out of the shower and I find her drip drying in the middle of the bathroom. Calmly examining her armpits. I look around. Wet towels hanging over every surface. Sink and faucet covered in toothpaste. The mirror says “Maddy rocks” in soapy finger swipe font. The bin for hair ties is empty and there are about 673 hair ties in the sink, one blast of water away from clogging up the sink. Someone has taken a big finger swipe of my not-inexpensive eye cream. There are 4 open sticks of deodorant and I can find 1 lid. The toothbrush holder has a spoon and butter knife but no toothbrushes. I sigh and pick my battle.
“Abbey, why are you dripping all over the bathroom? Dry off. And what the heck are you doing?”
“Well, there were no towels in the closet so I’m air drying. And as far as what I’m doing, I just shaved my armpits for the first time and I’m checking to see how I did.” Abbey said, not tearing her eyes away from her pits for a second.
At this point I’ve got nothing, so I just put my head down and go down the hall to my room where JT is gleefully jumping with his sister oblivious to the two loads of laundry that had been folded on the edge of the bed. Well, at least one of the piles was dry towels.
Bath time. With little girls it was easy, they played quietly in the tub with toys and soaps and my bathroom survived every evening unscathed. Then they became tweenagers and we added a boy. My bathroom is in danger of falling away from the rest of the house.
It starts out innocently enough. JT runs up to me and says “Ah booble, ah booble, ah booble!!!” This means “BUBBLES WOMAN, BUBBLES!!” So we dash upstairs and I turn on the water, put in the plug and turn to get the bubble to pour in. JT dives headfirst into the tub fully clothed with shoes on. I set down the bubble container to whip off his shoes while he’s still upside down. I also knock over the bottle of bubbles, dumping a full half of the bottle into the tub. We’ve got bubbles.
Now shoes and socks have been removed from the toddler who is now standing in the tub still clothed. I get off the shirt and as he lifts one foot to slide out of the pants, he slips and goes under. I grab him by the arm and pull his laughing self out of the bubbles. He looks like Santa, but we get off the pants and the now 6 pound diaper. The tub is still filling because the diaper has absorbed at least 10 gallons of water. I begin to wonder why we use sandbags to control floods, shouldn’t we just use whatever is in disposable diapers?
Older sister #1 comes in and says “JT, let’s play with the bubbles and gets into the tub with JT, her weight displaces water which results in a tsunami cascading out of the tub and onto the floor. I have prepared for this event a towel is already strategically placed, right next to where the flood is. I sigh and move the towel.
Now that JT is supervised I go downstairs with the dirty laundry so it doesn’t fill up my empty hamper. Dirty laundry on the basement steps is out of sight out of mind. In the hamper I feel compelled to address it. I hear cackling on the move. I go to the stairs and see JT, wet and streaking down the upstairs hallway. I go back upstairs just in time to see JT stand on the step stool and dive face first into the water. The ensuing wave, knocks all the rubber duckies stacked on the tub edge onto the floor. JT stands up and cheers for himself loudly. He and Maddy high five and he slithers out of the tub again. He sprints down the hallway, dripping wet and climbs onto my bed pillows. I grab him, but his arm slips out of my grasp and he’s off and across the bed and back out again. I get to the bathroom behind him, just in time to see him climb into the toilet and just stand there. In the toilet. In the toilet.
I lift him out of the toilet and plunk him into the bathtub. I wash him all over, the feet and legs twice. He is clean again. I get him out and wrapped in a towel. He squirms and thrashes until I let him get down. And he’s off. I corner him in his room and we argue over diaper, but he releases my hair and I agree to let him wear the minion shirt for the 2nd night in a row and just like that he’s got pajamas on.
I go back into the bathroom to hang up towels and dry up and Older sister #2 is now in the shower. With the inner liner outside of the tub. Outside of the tub. Pouring water onto the floor. I use the last towel to mop up the mess and put the liner back in. I look for a place to hang up the wet towel, but there are 7 hanging towels. No place for this one. I turn around in time to see the toilet paper roll running out as JT has taken the end of it and gone running, he’s trailing half a roll’s worth behind him. Well it’s out of here at least.
I scoop up the pile of dirty laundry from the floor and notice at least 4 items are from yesterday’s marathon laundry folding session. They haven’t been worn.
“Maddy! What is all this clean laundry doing in the bathroom?” I call down the hallway.
“Oh, I couldn’t decide what pajamas to wear, and those were the discards.” She says to me in her distracted voice.
I chuck the whole pile in the direction of her room and yell “then come pick them up, I am not folding them.”
I then hear the toilet lid and look back in the bathroom. Standing in the toilet, in pajamas, rinsing his pacifier. The Toddler. The laughing Toddler. And it’s out of the toilet and into dry pajamas. During this time, Older Sister #2 has gotten out of the shower and I find her drip drying in the middle of the bathroom. Calmly examining her armpits. I look around. Wet towels hanging over every surface. Sink and faucet covered in toothpaste. The mirror says “Maddy rocks” in soapy finger swipe font. The bin for hair ties is empty and there are about 673 hair ties in the sink, one blast of water away from clogging up the sink. Someone has taken a big finger swipe of my not-inexpensive eye cream. There are 4 open sticks of deodorant and I can find 1 lid. The toothbrush holder has a spoon and butter knife but no toothbrushes. I sigh and pick my battle.
“Abbey, why are you dripping all over the bathroom? Dry off. And what the heck are you doing?”
“Well, there were no towels in the closet so I’m air drying. And as far as what I’m doing, I just shaved my armpits for the first time and I’m checking to see how I did.” Abbey said, not tearing her eyes away from her pits for a second.
At this point I’ve got nothing, so I just put my head down and go down the hall to my room where JT is gleefully jumping with his sister oblivious to the two loads of laundry that had been folded on the edge of the bed. Well, at least one of the piles was dry towels.
Laughing. So. HARD. HA!
ReplyDeleteToo funny! Oh to be a fly on the wall! Stan
ReplyDeleteOmg!!! You really need to write a book. Two words.... BEST SELLER! I love to read these! Makes my day every time!
ReplyDeleteKerri