It had started out so well.
X had climbed into bed with me before the sun was up. I drew the blanket over her and she pressed her freezing little feet against my thighs and I reached up to close my window before pulling her close under the covers. She fell back asleep in short order. Oh yes. She actually, truly did... Fall. Back. Asleep. What a rare and wonderful parenting event! Can you imagine?
It was a little after 8:30am when G climbed in on my other side, stabbing me in the eye with a corner of my phone. How nice would it be if she just occupied herself for a few minutes while I finished that dream I was just having?
I turned on my phone, and put on Toddler Lock (seriously, it's free in the app store. Get it, if you have wee children. Shapes, sounds, crazy colors. It will keep them occupied for just long enough to pee in peace, or steal a few more moments of shut eye). I gave her my phone and snuggled in between the two bugs.
When I opened my eyes, the bed was empty and the bath was running.
I bolt out of bed and into the bathroom. Sitting in the tub, is G, still in her complete pajama outfit and diaper. Beside X, who is naked at least, but the both of them................
Are blue.
From head to toe, they are blue, and I know instantly from the smell that it is nail polish.I had left out NO nail polish. It is kept on a high shelf in an inaccessible room.
Miraculously, they had only gotten it on themselves.
We're on our fourth round of oil with a rough cloth trying to get it all scrubbed off. Sigh.
Thanks, children.
Friday, September 11, 2015
FtMB: Doctor X
From the Memory Banks:
Doctor X.
I breed Flemish Giant and Rex rabbits. At the time, we had a house rabbit named Mora, who needed to be indoors because she had kindled a litter of 13, and I wanted to keep a closer eye on her. Her babies were about 5 or 6 weeks old at the time. Thoroughly into the exploration phase.
I wake up to a strange feeling in the bed. I gave it a light nudge, thinking the cat was trying to play with an edge of the blanket, and wanting her to stop. The house was silent, so I thought I was safe to keep sleeping. (This is never the case. You are never safe. Do not resume sleeping.) The movement stopped, and I didn't think anything of it until there was a distinctive tickling on my face.
I opened my eyes and was greeted with the adorable orange and black face of one of the baby rabbits. Behind the kit, standing beside the bed, X was holding one of the sandy babies, giving me a deer in the headlights look.
We just stared at each other for a moment, before I finally looked down at the bed, to notice that I was covered in 12 baby bunnies. X frowned at me.
"Mama. You sick. Dis make you better. Go asleep."
And she shoved the remaining rabbit under the covers with me.
Doctor X.
I breed Flemish Giant and Rex rabbits. At the time, we had a house rabbit named Mora, who needed to be indoors because she had kindled a litter of 13, and I wanted to keep a closer eye on her. Her babies were about 5 or 6 weeks old at the time. Thoroughly into the exploration phase.
I wake up to a strange feeling in the bed. I gave it a light nudge, thinking the cat was trying to play with an edge of the blanket, and wanting her to stop. The house was silent, so I thought I was safe to keep sleeping. (This is never the case. You are never safe. Do not resume sleeping.) The movement stopped, and I didn't think anything of it until there was a distinctive tickling on my face.
I opened my eyes and was greeted with the adorable orange and black face of one of the baby rabbits. Behind the kit, standing beside the bed, X was holding one of the sandy babies, giving me a deer in the headlights look.
We just stared at each other for a moment, before I finally looked down at the bed, to notice that I was covered in 12 baby bunnies. X frowned at me.
"Mama. You sick. Dis make you better. Go asleep."
And she shoved the remaining rabbit under the covers with me.
FtMB: Make it Rain, baby
From the memory banks:
Make it rain, baby.
It was barely past dawn. My eldest, who has severe food intolerances, walks into the bedroom, holding half of a blueberry bagel. She isn't supposed to have them, but it's not a world-ending sleight on her diet.
She gently places the bagel on my pillow. "Here you go, mama."
I didn't think much of it as she sauntered back out until the main room - until it slowly dawned into my sleep deprived brain that she had gotten into our gated-off kitchen.
You know. Where the knives, forks, chemicals, and hardware like the blender are. I grabbed the edge of the blanket and flung it aside to leap out of bed -
Only to be suddenly and inexplicably showered with hundreds of cheez-its.
They crunched underfoot and I slid on them across the hardwood, only to go down Bambi-style when I slid on the empty, ripped-open box in the doorway.
Thank you, child.
Make it rain, baby.
It was barely past dawn. My eldest, who has severe food intolerances, walks into the bedroom, holding half of a blueberry bagel. She isn't supposed to have them, but it's not a world-ending sleight on her diet.
She gently places the bagel on my pillow. "Here you go, mama."
I didn't think much of it as she sauntered back out until the main room - until it slowly dawned into my sleep deprived brain that she had gotten into our gated-off kitchen.
You know. Where the knives, forks, chemicals, and hardware like the blender are. I grabbed the edge of the blanket and flung it aside to leap out of bed -
Only to be suddenly and inexplicably showered with hundreds of cheez-its.
They crunched underfoot and I slid on them across the hardwood, only to go down Bambi-style when I slid on the empty, ripped-open box in the doorway.
Thank you, child.
Thursday, September 3, 2015
Making a Hero
My children, X and G, are both girls. 3 and almost 2, respectively.
Like many parents know, sometimes, the kids are just the first ones up. Especially when A.) you have suspiciously quiet kids, B.) they get up ungodly early, and C.) You are a night owl or work long hours or both.
This blog is dedicated to those mornings. The, when the hell did they get up?! mornings. The, why can't I just have five more minutes? mornings. The, who stole my dragons?! Oh crap I'm not really the Khaleesi mornings.
But mostly... The, I love my kids-I love my kids-I love my kids mornings. Like this one.
The veil of sleep lifted just enough for me to smell... soap. Soap? Coconuts? I squinted and rubbed my eyes. I'm blind without my glasses, and yesterday the children broke one of the arms off my last pair. They are now put up even out of my reach at night. Our white cat, PangurBan, is sitting by my bed, looking intently up at me. She smells like coconut-clean.
"X? What are you doing?" I call as I get up out of the bed.
"Nothing mama! I make a HERO!" That doesn't quite sound like nothing. She runs into the bedroom, and she, too, smells like coconut-clean.
It's probably soap. Even when I bring her close to me though, she's not too slimy or gross. Still, I ask her to go run a bath while I throw on something that looks marginally like clothing.
She runs to the bathroom, starts the tub, and I get my glasses on, and follow her in. And there standing before the sink, is G. She is covered head to toe in conditioner, as is LeeLoo.
"See, mama?" X asks, proudly motioning to G. "A HERO!"
Like many parents know, sometimes, the kids are just the first ones up. Especially when A.) you have suspiciously quiet kids, B.) they get up ungodly early, and C.) You are a night owl or work long hours or both.
This blog is dedicated to those mornings. The, when the hell did they get up?! mornings. The, why can't I just have five more minutes? mornings. The, who stole my dragons?! Oh crap I'm not really the Khaleesi mornings.
But mostly... The, I love my kids-I love my kids-I love my kids mornings. Like this one.
The veil of sleep lifted just enough for me to smell... soap. Soap? Coconuts? I squinted and rubbed my eyes. I'm blind without my glasses, and yesterday the children broke one of the arms off my last pair. They are now put up even out of my reach at night. Our white cat, PangurBan, is sitting by my bed, looking intently up at me. She smells like coconut-clean.
"X? What are you doing?" I call as I get up out of the bed.
"Nothing mama! I make a HERO!" That doesn't quite sound like nothing. She runs into the bedroom, and she, too, smells like coconut-clean.
It's probably soap. Even when I bring her close to me though, she's not too slimy or gross. Still, I ask her to go run a bath while I throw on something that looks marginally like clothing.
She runs to the bathroom, starts the tub, and I get my glasses on, and follow her in. And there standing before the sink, is G. She is covered head to toe in conditioner, as is LeeLoo.
"See, mama?" X asks, proudly motioning to G. "A HERO!"
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