Let's keep it real, folks. It's impossible to pretend that things are 100% perfect 100% of the time. Not to mention exhausting to keep up that charade.
So anyway, here's a few recent stories that I'll probably think are funny later...but not quite yet.
The other day, I was in Barrett's room, helping him get dressed in clean clothes after a potty accident (super fun task in itself). When I walked back down the hall to the living room, I saw that Charlotte used those 2 minutes to open a bag of powdered sugar and was laying on her stomach in the middle of the pile dragging her little arms and legs through the mess, like a snow angel.
When she saw me standing there, shocked and momentarily speechless, she stood up and ran towards the kitchen, leaving an incriminating trail of sugar footprints and shedding sprinkles of powdered sugar off her clothes with each toddling step.
|Do you know how hard it is to sweep up powdered sugar? And that the vaccuum makes it blow everywhere? And that mopping it makes the floor sticky? Just asking...|
A few days later, I was helping Barrett use the potty in the powder room off the kitchen area when I heard a crash. I left his soiled underwear soaking in the clean-flushed toilet (best way I've found to pre-clean it before it goes in the washing machine...) and dashed out to find the source of the crash.
Charlotte had climbed from the chairs to the top of the breakfast table and knocked over my big vase full of water onto the white canvas cushions I was sewing to recover a pair of club chairs. She was using the cut stem of a split-leaf philodendron to color brown marks on my hand made white piping.
I'd been working on reupholstering these chairs since JULY.
|These are the finished chairs. In their former life, they were a lovely avacodo-colored curduroy.|
Now they are white canvas on casters with nail head trim around the bottom and sides.
Anyway, as I was cleaning the mess off the cushions and redirecting the water away from the sewing machine I'd set up on the breakfast table, I heard the powder room toilet flush.
Yep, Barrett flushed the undies I'd left soaking. Because I'm sure that's really good for the plumbing. Hey, at least I didn't have to clean them after all.
(cringe. and eyeroll. and heavy sigh.)
And then, just when I was ready to give up on trying so hard to "do a good job," I looked in the rearview mirror the next time we were in the car and saw them sweetly holding hands, just on their own.
|We were just riding down the road, and they spontaneously decided they wanted to hold hands.|
|It hapened again, a few days later, when we were riding in Kristopher's truck|
Even if they do flush their underwear and can't be trusted around a bag of powdered sugar.