Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Lesson #34: Never Take A Shower

If you have read this blog, you know that the bathroom is pretty much my nemesis. My arch-enemy. The Kryptonite to my Superman. The pin to my balloon. The rain to my parade. It is the place where privacy died. It is the place where epic messes are made. It is the place that holds me hostage while my children attempt to take over the world (or at least eat all the marshmallows while dancing to Kesha radio on Pandora).

This particular day, I was sudsing up when both children barged in, double trouble. My 3 year old whipped open the cloth shower curtain and sat down on the outside of the tub, peering in at me in all my glory through the clear plastic curtain. Like he was ready to have a fireside chat or something. Meanwhile, his brother announced loudly that he needed to GO POOP.

As I'm sure you can imagine, things went downhill from there.

A few minutes later, after banishing him from the tub-side peep show, the 3 year old was crying because he had climbed into the sink and couldn't get down. I'm still not sure exactly how he got up there. I swear he has some kind of spider monkey powers or something.

"I'm stuck! I can't get down! Help me! Help me!"
"I'm in the shower, I can't help you right now."
"But I can't get down! Help me! HELP MEEEE!!!!"
"You climbed up, just climb down the same way you climbed up."

About that time, big brother started using yards of toilet paper to wipe himself. I cautioned that he was using far too much but to no avail.

"Um, mom the toilet is clogged up!"
"Mom, MOM! The toilet is plugged up!"
"I. NEED. TO. GO. POTTY!!!!!!"

I should also mention that when I had gone to get a towel for said shower, the cupboard was empty save for that smallish raggedy "extra" towel shoved in the back. All  I had at my disposal when Pottygate went down was a ratty ass half towel that only covered about 2/3 of my body. I got out of the shower and covered myself as best I could and grabbed the plunger. I left the three year old in the sink, figuring that at least he wouldn't be trying to "help" with the toilet situation if he was stuck in the sink. So there I was, desperately trying to hold the towel on by pinning it down with my arms while plunging a toilet with an audience at 5:30 in the morning.

Once the toilet was un-clogged I had to help with the butt wiping situation since homeboy uses miles of toilet paper and only gets anything on about 3 squares out of the whole mess. After the butt was clean, I turned to wash my hands but of course I couldn't since there was still a child in the sink. Throwing the towel around the back half of my body, I turned and washed my hands under the tub faucet. As I turned back to grab little man out of the sink, he declared, "I peed." Of course. Well at least he was in the sink. Silver lining and all that jazz.

Clogged toilets, peed in sinks, colored on walls, raided chocolate chips, pilfered hot cocoa, dumped cornstarch, spilled drinks and spilled cereal and spilled crackers and spilled milk, scrapes and bumps, books and trucks, tears and cheers, smiles and laughs, hugs and kisses. These are all the things that fill our daily lives and turn moments into memories. While some of them aren't my favorite things in the world, I'll gladly plunge a few toilets if it means I get to make memories with these little people for the rest of my life.  

Friday, April 4, 2014

Lesson #33: Our Time Will Come

You know by now that my children wake us up when it is still dark outside on a daily basis. What I'm not sure I've mentioned is that they do so by dive bombing our bed. And not so much in a fun way where they dive bomb it and then snuggle in for some family cuddle time. Noooo no no. It's usually a dive bomb followed by a fistfight about who gets what spot. No matter which spot each one gets, they want the spot the other one has. Then it's a bunch of pushing and slapping and yelling about who gets to go where. Mind you, we have a queen sized bed so two adults and two children is a wee bit tight without a WWE cage match going on. Oh, and at some point the three year old usually gets out of the bed and flips on the overhead light, effectively blinding everyone. It's only a matter of time before we give up the family snuggle pipe dream and wave the white flag in surrender, getting up before someone loses an eye or something.

As a result of this daily wake up brawl, hubby and I have taken up a new hobby. It's called scheming and dreaming about how we will re-create all their shenanigans when they're teenagers. Oh how very very sweet it will be when we exact our karmic revenge! The gloves will come off and it will be time to give them a taste of their own medicine. Muahahaha!

I can see it now: we'll run screaming into their bedrooms at 4:30 in the morning, turning on overhead lights and dive bombing their beds.We'll flail around, yanking all the blankets off and yelling in their ears until they're forced to get up just to put an end to the chaos that is occurring literally right on top of them.

Maybe I'll wait until one of them needs a ride somewhere, tell him I'll take him and then refuse to get up from wherever I'm sitting. Once I finally give in and get ready to roll, I'll remember that I am dying of thirst and really need a drink NOW before we go anywhere. Despite his protests, I'll simply go to the fridge and get myself a drink. Then I will yell at him about how HE'S making ME late.

While they're at school we'll re-create the Toy Mountain (see Lesson #30) effect in their bedrooms. Can you imagine their faces when they come home from school and every single thing they own is piled up in one corner of the room? *Evil laugh*

They also went through this fun phase where they liked to pee in/on things that were not the toilet (that's another whole blog post altogether), though I think re-creating that might be going a tad too far.

I like to joke and laugh about all of these things that make parenting a crazy adventure, but I recognize that while the lack of sleep, the constant messes, and the refereeing (oh, the refereeing!!!) are all exhausting and challenging, these things are also blessings. One day I will long for a tiny body squishing me, small hands pushing me out of bed, and little ones turning on my overhead light at the butt crack of dawn. One day, my home will be quiet and I will wish for the sound of little voices and laughter echoing off the walls. One day my babies will be grown and I will miss their little selves. One day these days will just be memories. I will enjoy the good times and take the rest with a grain of salt. After all, the days are long but the years are short.