Unbelievable… Again!
I know it’s gotten to the point where the Little One’s hiding or stashing of thing has gotten a bit unbelievable. I swear to each and every one of you, there are no exaggerations here. The kid is going to be a hoarder someday featured on the A&E television show.
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So today’s episode of, “She hid what, where?” features my brand new sponge scrubber thing. I bought of those Scotch Brite Soap Dispensing Dishwands (yes I googled it to get the proper name!)
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The Little One was fascinated with it. She played with it in the cart at the store and in the car the entire way home. Apparently she also played with it after we got home. I was putting the groceries away and evidently not paying much attention to her.
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I was also apparently not paying attention when I filled the thing with soap. I just filled it up and set it along the edge of the sink. Now the Husband is TDY so I haven’t been cooking much. So the thing sat there for a day or two or four. Tonight I grabbed it to scrub a pan that I had used for dinner.
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As I started to clean the pan, I noticed a big brown thing floating in my dishwand. What the heck, I turned it over and held it up to the light to see better. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what it was. Then I turned it to just the right angle and saw the grinning face of a Teddy Graham staring back at me.
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That little turkey put half of a Chocolate Teddy Graham in my dishwand when I wasn’t looking.
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I will admit I am impressed with how well preserved it was in the dish soap!
That Little One
I’m telling you, she is going to be the death of me. I guess one benefit of her antics is that the dog is now clean.
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Granted I hadn’t planned on giving the dog a bath. We are San Diego-bound tomorrow, and while I would like to say I always take a clean dog with me that’s not always the case. I really just wanted to focus on getting the laundry done and the house tidied.
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Instead I just bathed the dog. Why did I need to bathe the dog? Well I actually was feeling really guilty because of the blue streak that she has had down the middle of her back. It’s been about a week. I admit I figured the way the dog rolls around in the backyard and rubs up against all the furniture, the paint would have worn off by now. Alas, it hadn’t so I did what needed to be done.
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She is not the easiest dog to bathe, so yes I put it off. But honestly if the Little One wasn’t such a pill, the situation would have never occurred.
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You see the girls were painting Easter sun-catchers. They were at their little table doing their thing, when I heard, “UH-OH!” come from the Little One.
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She had tried to put her paintbrush in the little cup of water that I gave her. Of course the paint brush didn’t stay put, it flipped out of the cup and onto the floor. Blue paint splattered all over the tile, wall and chair.
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I got some paper towels and started to clean the mess. I don’t know what I was thinking really. I handed the Little One her paint brush as I got down on my hands and knees next to her to clean the floor. I really should have known better. The dog thought there was food on the floor so she managed to squeeze herself between the Little One and me. The dog is just at arm’s height when the Little One is in her chair, so the temptation was too great.
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The next thing I heard was, “I painted Gracie,” followed by the evil giggle that the Little One is known for. I was so focused on cleaning that I didn’t even look at the dog. To be completely honest, I forgot all about the incident until the next day when I noticed the blue streak running down the middle of the dog’s back.
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I suppose I should be thanking the dog for being there. If she hadn’t been there, I probably would have been the one with a blue streak down my back.
A Rough Week
The Big One has had a rough week in the bathroom. I’m not going to sugar coat it, sorry. I already told y’all about the whole not pooping for nine days adventure.
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Who knew that would probably be the best part of her week in terms of the toilet?
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There is some road construction going on at preschool. They are widening the road that the church is on. So on Wednesday, construction required the water to be shut off at the church. The preschool was prepared, they had porta-potties and bottled water handy.
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Apparently all of the kids were excited to try out the porta-potties. It was the Big One’s turn. She was doing fine, sitting on the pot, doing her thing. Her teacher was with her to offer moral support. I guess the Big One shifted her weight just right and lost her balance. No, she didn’t fall in the pot, but she did slip a little and certainly felt like she was getting sucked down into the blue abyss. Her teacher grabbed her and prevented her from falling in. It didn’t matter though, the damage was done. We now have a slight fear (again) of falling in the potty.
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Then today we went back to the Y. It was our first trip since we all got so terribly sick. I was really hesitant to go back, but I am going to Hawaii with the Husband in April, so you do what you gotta do.
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I guess at some point while I was swimming, the Big One had to go potty. The care givers in the play area, helped her get into the bathroom and then went back to playing with other kids. The Big One told them she was big enough to do it alone, which she is. The only problem is apparently the door to the restroom in the kids’ play weighs about a half a ton. (according to the care givers!).
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From what I was told, a few minutes had gone by, the Big One hadn’t emerged when suddenly they heard screaming coming from the vicinity of the restroom. The Big One was stuck. She couldn’t get the door open, so she started freaking out.
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Great, so now we are not only afraid of falling in, but we are also afraid of being locked it. UGH!
A Terrible Two, Who Knew?
The Big One never really went through the “Terrible Twos.” She instead waited until she turned three to become a terror. The Little One, on the other hand, has determined that being two means being a huge pain in the posterior end.
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The Little One is sassy. She pushes buttons and she still gets into everything.
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The Big One pooped this morning and needed help wiping her butt. Oh the joys! She’s had some regularity issues and prior to yesterday had not gone in nine days. So I didn’t mind helping. It was reassuring to me that maybe she is back on track, so to speak.
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So I grabbed the flushable wipes and did what needed to be done. I then noticed red all over the wipes. Since she had been having poop issues, I was worried that it was blood. (TMI, I know! She will love me when she is 16!)
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So I checked her out and she looked fine. I was perplexed as to where the red color came from. Well, I had used the last wipe, so I opened the container to re-fill it with wipes and found my answer.
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The Little One, who is a pack rat in training, decided that the wipes box was apparently a good place to store a whole handful of colored Goldfish crackers. I kid you not. The wipes container was full of smooshed, soggy and gross colored Goldfish… thus explaining why the wipes were red.
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Honestly, who does stuff like that? Oh yeah, my two-year-old.
It’s The Anticipation
I think one of my least favorite parts of parenting is the anticipation of a night full of vomit. I know it’s early in the morning and that is not a pretty visual, but it’s been my reality two of the last three nights.
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I tried to do something good for myself by joining the YMCA. So on Friday, we went to check it out. I planned to drop the girls off in the play area and then go swim. I was hesitant because the Little One still freaks out sometimes on Sundays when we leave her in Sunday School. But on Friday things were okay. They girls were happily playing and I got to swim for a good 40 minutes.
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I was feeling great. I exercised and the girls got to play. It was all good. Until about 1 o’clock on Saturday morning when the Husband and I were awakened by the Little One’s tell-tale “I puked” shriek. She screamed, I jumped up and told the husband that the Little One just puked. He of course didn’t believe that I could predict that from our bedroom. (he was wrong!).
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So we spent an hour cleaning up the Little One, her bed, carpet and bathroom. I finally get her back in bed and then crawled back into my bed. The Husband had already started snoring as I lay there waiting and wondering when or if it was going to happen again. I laid there a good couple hours just waiting to hear her cough, gag and then scream. It never came, fortunately.
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Fast forward to last night. It was around 12:45 a.m. when the Big One woke me up. She was standing in my doorway (the baby gate is up to keep Gracie Lou in my room, she still cannot have free reign of my house at night!) whining that her tummy hurt. I told her to go lay back down. I got up and checked her temperature. She’s got a low-grade fever.
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I knew what was coming next, it was a matter of when. So I went back to bed and waited. It took about 20 minutes before I heard a similar shriek to the one I heard a couple nights before. Thankfully the Big One is quick enough and got to the bathroom in time. So the clean-up was minimal. She still wanted to take a bath, so I bathed her and then got her back in bed at around 1:30 a.m.
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Then I waited. And waited. And waited. As I laid there waiting to see if there was going to be more puke, I decided that exercise must be bad, why else would both my kids be sick? I’m kidding. I hope I can get them well in a couple more days and we will try the Y again.
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I just wish there was some kind of detector to tell me if the puke incident was a one-time deal or a marathon was in store. I would certainly get a lot more sleep!
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Oh and by the way, where is the Husband? Yep, you guessed it gone for the week. He at least got to experience one night of fun with me!
Upping the Ante
Okay, so I know that I shot myself in the foot so to speak with potty training the Little One. She was ready several months ago and I was not. So now that I am ready she is not interested.
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With the Big One, we bribed her with one M&M and a sticker for every time she went on the potty. That was all the motivation she needed.
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The Little One is not so easy. She is not too interested in one M&M. So then I tried to bribe her with her a Good Nite Lite. She loves the Big One’s. I told her if she went on the potty that she could have her own sun and moon.
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She was really excited about that prospect…. For about an hour.
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The Big One really wants the Little One to experience all the fun stuff at preschool, so she wants the Little One to get potty trained.
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The other day, I was trying to convince the Little One to sit on the potty, when the Big One put her hand on my arm and said, “WAIT! Mommy, let me try.”
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I laughed and said go for it.
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Next thing I know the Big One offers a Hershey Kiss for pee on the potty. Of course the Little One got super excited, raced for the potty, dropped her pants and diaper and peed on the potty.
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Apparently one M&M was not enough chocolate for the Little One, but a Hershey Kiss got her going (literally).
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Of course, then the Big One expected a Hershey Kiss for getting the Little One to go.
Does Any of the Toothpaste End up on Their Teeth?
I confess it’s been a couple weeks since I have cleaned the girls’ bathroom. Nobody goes in there, but them, so it’s pretty low on my priority list. So today we were in cleaning mode. The Husband washed both cars, I gave the dog a bath and decided it was time to tackle the girls’ bathroom.
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Just an aside the dog gets bathed about as often as the girls’ bathroom gets cleaned. Hmmm, wonder if there is a connection between the Husky/German Shephard mix getting a bath and the bathroom becoming uninhabitable? I think there is. If you know a trick to get your dog to shake the excess water off at the right time, please let me know.
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Anyway this is not about dog hair, it’s about toothpaste.
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My title is definitely not in jest, I honest to goodness wonder if any of the toothpaste gets on their teeth. I found it on the counter, mirror, floor, wall, towels, baseboards, step stools and everywhere else imaginable.
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How is it possible to get toothpaste everywhere?
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If there was a way to gather up and measure how much toothpaste I found, I am certain it would have been at least one full tube of it. I know it’s only going to get worse in their bathroom from here on out. So the question then becomes, how old is old enough to start cleaning it themselves?
Those Darn Baby Dolls
Obviously Santa does not read my blog. If he did read my blog, he would know that baby dolls with clothes are not supposed to enter my house.
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For any of you who may have missed the rules pertaining to baby dolls, here is the link:
https://fixitmommy.com/2008/12/29/important-announcement-re-baby-dolls/
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For Christmas the Big One received a Dora doll complete with clothes, shoes, ice skates, ice skating dress and pajamas. Did you catch that? Not only one set of clothing to change into, but three different outfits and essentially two pairs of shoes.
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The Big One in the last couple days has suddenly taken a liking to this particular Dora doll. And more importantly she has taken to changing Dora’s clothes 18 times a day. It’s all fine and good during the day. I figure the shoes and skates will be stretched out soon enough that they won’t stay on and I can throw them in the trash. But the clothes are a whole other ballgame.
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Sometimes the Big One gets Dora changed with relative ease, sometimes she melts down and freaks out.
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So tonight, just as last night, the Big One decided that when it was time for her to go upstairs for tubby time, that Dora too needed to get her pajamas on and go to sleep.
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The Husband laid down the law last night that Dora was not allowed in bed. It was a good thing, the last thing I wanted was a meltdown at 2 a.m. because Dora’s ice skate was somewhere in her bed. So tonight as the Big One struggled to get Dora’s dress off so that she could put her Pajamas on, she started whining.
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I offered to help and quickly surmised the problem. Dora’s arm had been rotated all the way around so that her elbow was facing forward (OUCH!). So I said, “Well the problem is you’ve got her arm all jacked up.”
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So then of course she asked me what “jacked up” meant. So I told her it was just messed up and needed to be turned the right way.
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I thought end of story. I took Dora’s dress off and put her pajama pants on. I gave the doll back to the Big One to put Dora’s pajama top on. Next thing I hear is, “ UGGGGGGHHHHHHH this arm is all jacked up!”
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Nice, huh?
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Yes, I could take the blame for her newfound catch phrase, but it’s so much easier to blame it on Santa. If there were no Dora doll with clothes, this would have never happened in the first place. Damn you Santa.
What Are the Odds?
I don’t even know how to start this one. This was the craziest thing ever. At preschool, the Big One made a crown, complete with sparkly jewels and all. She had four extra jewels in her hand as we headed for the Mom-mobile.
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As she climbed into her seat, she started freaking out because she suddenly only had three jewels. She started crying, “My pink one! I lost the pink one!”
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I admit I was a bit annoyed. We have a bag full of theses same jewels at home, so really I didn’t see the need for the drama.
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As she continues freaking out, I am struggling to get her carset buckled. The top buckle was latched and I was trying to fit the two metal pieces into the lower buckle. For some reason, the metal tab would not go in the hole.
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Getting frustrated, I announced, “What the heck?” and then peered into the buckle to see what was going on. 
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What do you think I saw lodged perfectly inside the buckle? Yep, a pink jewel. Are you kidding me? I tried tapping the buckle and shaking it upside down to no avail. The jewel was not moving.
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I searched my glove box for something to try and pry the thing out. Nothing.
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So then I went back into the preschool to see if they by chance had some tweezers. Of course, Ms. Jessica, the preschool director, is cracking up laughing and shaking her head in disbelief as I tell her what the problem is.
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No luck. So I call the Husband to see if he can drive 30 miles home to get me some tweezers or needle nose pliers or something. He doesn’t answer his phone.
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I did one last search and found a pair of scissors in my “emergency box” and was finally able to pluck the jewel out of the buckle.
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Guess what I am buying next time I go to WalMart? Yep, tweezers, two sets; one for my car and one for the preschool!
Foiled Already
The Big One will tell you that she already knows everything. Well last night she proved that she certainly knows more than I sometimes give her credit for.
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The Husband has a cold. He sounds and feels miserable. Last night I told him he had 24 hours to feel better because I planned to go to a Pampered Chef party tonight at a friend’s house. So in reminding him of my plans, I stopped short of saying where the party was going to be held.
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I knew that if I said whose house it was at, the Big One would start freaking out that she wanted to come with me. Her newest best buddy at preschool is Abby and Abby’s mom is having the party. So to avoid a scene (or so I thought), I said the party was at A-B-B-Y’s house.
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I barely got the Y spelled out when the Big One shouted, “HEY! That’s my friend Abby’s name!”
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Seriously, she can spell friend’s names now? I know she can spell her own, the Little One’s, and a few other words, like Mommy, Daddy and pizza. But her friend’s name????
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I am going to have to come up with a new code to talk to the Husband now that the kid is learning to spell!
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