A Little Pink Never Hurt

In honor of summer, Diva selected two bottles of nail polish during our last trip to Wal-Mart. That evening we painted her toenails using the "sprankles." Little Man watched intently and then climbed up beside me ... "Toes Momma, toes." What's the harm, right? ... he's not even two and just wanted to be like his big sister. I obliged and painted his right big toe. He proudly showed it to Daddy, who was slightly less proud. The pride diminished further when he learned little man wore flipflops the next day and said "Toes, toes" to anyone that would listen.
Last night, I bribed Diva - pink "fingerails" in exchange for letting me cut her nails. While Daddy was busy getting ready for work, deja vu struck. This time I tried to ignore Little Man's request. Diva was quick to serve as her brother's translator, in case I just couldn't understand him.

Our Conversation:
Little Man: "Momma toes, toes Momma."
Diva: "Momma, Little Man wants you to paint his too."
Me: "I know, but I don't think Daddy would like that."
Diva: "But Momma, Daddy is going to work. He won't see the pink."

I guess there is no denying that's my girl ...
sometimes it really is better to ask forgiveness instead of permission!!!

And no, Little Man does not have pink toenails ...
but he does still have the sparkly big toe.

Noah's Ark ... In My Own House

Bathtime is always a wet adventure in our house ... but today we took it to a whole new level. As is our usual routine, after dinner the kids headed to the bathtub. I usually let them play until the fighting starts and then go in to bathe them. Yes I know, I should not leave them unsupervised ... but I am not that perfect mommy, so I leave them alone in the tub, approximately 50 feet away and check on them often. I use this time to recover the kitchen from our eating adventures. Tonight they were playing so well together so I let them play longer than usual. There was lots of laughing, not the usual bickering after 5 minutes together. I cleaned up the kitchen and then started down the hall to the bathroom. Halfway down the hall, I noticed a problem ... my feet were wet. Sneaking around the corner, I caught them!!!

My two adorable, well-behaved children dumping trash cans full of water out of the tub. The water level in the tub was at least half what it had been ... but, it was almost an inch deep on the bathroom floor, rolling down the hall and into Diva's room. The scene continued - soaked bath mats, a previously dry pile of dirty clothes, a narrowly missed Pottery Barn rug and some very wet hardwood floors. Thank goodness we don't have carpet!

I guess Mommy's face said it all. Little Man was the one actually holding the trash can when I came around the corner. His response was classic: Pouting followed by, "I sorry Momma." But really, what else are you going to say after flooding the house?!?!

Walt Disney Could Never Have Imagined ...

Diva has had the problem for some time now. Some things I can understand ... knit pants are pretty easy to confuse front and back on. The flip flops puzzle me a bit. How does one not only put them on the wrong feet, but then wear them like that and successfully walk? While both of these are funny ... the panties are the funniest by far.

We refer to this look as the "Toddler Thong."

Way too much fabric in the front ... itty bitty bit of fabric in the back. This is what happens when the panties are put on backwards. Diva has even been known to state "My booty ate my panties." Yet, this is still a common occurrence in our home. However, this week I saw a new side of the problem. Diva greeted me as I returned from work, wearing nothing but panties (also a common sight in our house). I could tell they were on backwards, but didn't realize the real problem until she turned around.

These were her Tinkerbell undies. So, when they were put on backwards ... Tinkerbell was in an unfortunate position. All that could be seen of her were the wings. Apparently Diva's booty had eaten the rest of her!!!

A Conversation About God

The Diva's MDO class is having the End of the Year program this evening. For the Christmas program, the kids dressed as snowmen complete with stovepipe hats. Picking her up today, we began the usual after school conversation about her day. Then I asked what I thought to be a logical next question:

Me: Are you wearing a costume for your program tonight?
Diva: I wanna wear the God costume.
**long silent pause** Wow, I was thinking she would say flower or something else with a summer theme. Maybe I just misunderstood her.
Me: What costume?
Diva: The God costume. We need to go to the costume store and get my God costume.
Me: I'm not really sure we should do that. I don't think that's a good idea.
Diva: Why?
Me: Wanna go to Taco House for lunch?

So I took "God" to Taco Bell for lunch. Do you think that was okay? Maybe I should have sprung for something a little nicer.

Is This Your Kid?

It all started with me running late - something that was never a problem until I had kids. I got stuck in town, unsure I would make it back in time to pick Diva up from MDO. Mother-in-law to the rescue. The call was placed and she agreed to meet Diva at MDO and wait with her until I arrived (I was only going to be about 5 minutes late). I made pretty good time driving back and actually got there on time. As I arrived at Diva's classroom, her teacher was gone and another mom was minding the class. She was holding a child (remember this, it becomes important soon), but I was too focused on finding Diva to notice much else.

I scanned the class and not seeing Diva, began this conversation:
Her: Who are you looking for?
Me: I don't see her, but her grandma may have beat me here
Her: What's her name?
Me: "Diva"
Her: This "Diva"? **with funny look on her face, pointing to the child she is holding**
Me: Um ... yeah, that's my "Diva"

Not that there could possibly be any defense for not recognizing your own child
but ... I left home early that morning and didn't get her dressed. On top of that,
her hair had not been fixed because her Daddy doesn't do hair. So, I paid no real
attention to the random child this woman was holding because Diva would never
look the mess that she did that day ... mismatched clothes/wild hair/face turned
the other direction. And my beautiful baby girl just looked at me like I had lost
my mind ... pretty much the same look the other mom gave me.

Surprisingly, I was able to take her home without producing any identification and Family Services has yet to show up at my front door.

Poison Control 101

It was bound to happen eventually. We made it almost four years into the journey of parenthood, but clearly our time had come. The morning was going way to well and it simply couldn't last. Both kids had eaten, were dressed with hair fixed ... and I had a good 20 minutes to spare before we had to leave. I might actually get to wear make-up today!?!?

And then it happened ...
D walks up to me holding Baby Q and quite calmly says "I think he might need his mouth washed out?" He then holds up a bottle of nail polish thinner, circa 1999. I have no idea where it had been hiding - it clearly predates my married with kids life (I don't currently own any nail polish, unless you count the sliver of pink on my big toes from who knows when). Wherever Q found it, he had managed to chug about 1/2 an ounce of the stuff. Pretty amazing considering it smells like acetone. So yeah, there would be no make-up for Mommy this morning. It was replaced with a call to our local Poison Control Hotline.

The lady was quite nice - "it's nothing to be concerned about, just give him lots of milk or water to dilute it and keep him upright for the next hour or so."

And then she took my name and number ... do they put you on some sort of Bad Parents List on your first call or is it a freebie???

OCD - The Toddler Version

Miss E was asked to be a flower girl in a family wedding last Valentine's Day. This was not something we had tried before, but it was to be a small informal ceremony so we agreed. With much excitement and anticipation, she put on her "pretty dress" and posed for pictures. She did so relatively easily, so we assumed the rest of the ceremony would go just as smoothly. As the music began she walked down the aisle, tossing red rose petals along the way. The bride followed and Miss E quietly stood there, watching in awe. As the music stopped and the officiant began talking, she seemed to lose interest. She began picking up the rose petal and putting them back in her basket. No big deal - at least she was being quiet. Then ... well, poor Miss E has just a touch of OCD (all things have a place and everything must be neatly in its place) and it got the better of her. She tried her best to pick all of the petals up, but she could not reach the ones the bride was standing on.

In the middle of the prayer my sweet baby girl shoved the bride, said "move ___," and picked up the last few petals.

I didn't know whether to laugh or crawl under my chair!!!