Well I started the new year off with a whimper. As in wanting to crawl back into bed. The kids had been sleeping in every morning all wee -- I didn't even see Milo on Tuesday before I went to work. But New Year's Day? Nope. Up at 6:30. Yay...
We've had a series of unusual mishaps lately -- now that we're on the other side of them, we can look back and appreciate the humor in the situations.
First: Scott was filling the dogs' water bowl thingy -- it's like an office water cooler, but sits on the ground with a dog bowl attached. It's pretty spiffy. Anyway, the kids and I were in the family room reading books and he started filling the water cooler in the kitchen, then turned on the tap in the bathroom for the kids' bath. He stepped into the family room as the tub was filling and we chatted a while, then he rounded up the kids to get them ready for the tub and I went into the kitchen on an errand which I have now forgotten. Well... the water cooler had filled up several minutes prior to me walking into the kitchen. Enough minutes prior that there were three inches of water standing on the floor by the sink.
I screamed a horror-movie scream and dashed to turn off the faucet, Scott quickly on my heels with a look of shock on his broad face. "Towels..." he stammered. I pointed to the basket of clean towels right behind him and we started sopping up the mess. Both kids tried to get in on the action and before I knew it, they had thrown every potholder, washcloth, and hand towel from my kitchen linen drawer onto the pile of seeping, wet bath towels, plus a sweater, some doll clothes and a mitten. This was the point where I insisted that bath time happen as normal, mostly to avert anything else going into the substantial pile of sogginess.
2. Scott left to work on the opera yesterday morning at about 7:30. The kids and I were happily ensconced on the couch, snuggling in the comfort of our big red blanket.
At 7:45 I decided to use the restroom. Violet followed close behind, then Milo skipped into the bathroom around her, bouncing from one foot to the other like an over-sized leprechaun. Thus the team sport of Mom is Pooping was born.
Violet quickly unspooled half of the roll of toilet paper before tearing off about three square inches, which she used to try and wipe my bum whilst I was re-rolling the rest of the toilet paper. Somehow, the babe actually connected with some of the poo, which she wiped onto my leg, pajamas, and bathrobe. Horrified, I snatched the offending and offensive tp from her hand (which was miraculously clean) and plopped her outside the bathroom, closing the door. In case you don't make it any further in the story, I did get her hands all washed the minute I was able to -- no gross baby hands, please...
Well, banishing the princess started her howling, which made my leprechaun all the more gleeful -- until I decided that pooping is really in an individual sport and deposited him outside the door as well. Then I locked the door. I did all of this from the seat of the throne, but the way.
As I really didn't have that much to finish up with, I was quickly off the pot, scrubbing my icky thigh, and changing clothes. Then I washed both kids' hands with mucho soapo and got us all the heck outta the outhouse.
3. Last night, at an informal gathering at my parents-in-law's home, Violet apparently auditioned for "Jackass" without my knowledge. While I was helping child #1 into his pajamas in Grandpa and Grandma's bedroom -- he's suddenly shy about changing clothes in front of people, as he should be -- Violet and her cousin Reece were playing with the plastic ride-on John Deer tractor.
According to eyewitnesses, my sister-in-law Sally shrieked and darted out of the room, yelling, "Reece! Stop!!" Reece was at the top of the stairs with the tractor. They say they saw Sally grab Reece and move her from the top of the stairs and the tractor tumble down. By this point, Scott's brother Eric (husband to Sally) was on the scene. Sally flew down the steps and those not close enough were puzzled at her response to "just a tractor" going down the steps. Unfortunately, no one but Reece, Sally and Eric knew that Violet was riding on the tractor that Reece was pushing.
Baby girl and tractor cartwheeled down the steps, landing on a similar pile of shoes which caught Milo about 20 months ago when he, on his own power, cartwheeled head over heels down the steps. Violet was instantly screaming, which I heard from the back bedroom, but assumed was because she didn't want Scott putting her pajamas on her. Nope... She was startled, confused and wanting a nipple to calm her. When Milo and I finally came out of the bedroom and the story was explained to me, it was already clear that Violet was fine, but Sally was not. Violet nursed for about three minutes -- long enough to gather herself together. She ran down the hall, back into the fracas without a second thought.
There was much chiding, mostly teasing Eric and Sally about Reece wanting to be the only girl again and getting there by offing our little Evil Knievel.
When you add to this the normal craziness of raising kids who have limitless imagination and sharp wits, it has been an interesting year already...