Tuesday, May 22, 2012

A Handpainted NON Masterpiece

I try so hard.

I find time to shower. I keep my clothes washed. I curl my hair under in the morning. I wear enough makeup not to be scary. I smile and look pleasant.

But no matter what I do; no matter how much effort goes into choosing that day's outfit,

I end up looking like a human version of an overused rag.

Every single flippin' day.

In fact, by evening, if you examine my clothing you can probably guess EXACTLY how my day went "and clearly, Addison had applesauce and greasy chips for snack today" "Oh, and Carter spit up on you...about 1:00?" "Hmmmm, sandbox day?"

I lie not.

(EXHIBIT B: Every Other Day)

While Addison was finishing up her breakfast, I carefully put on a newish white patterned tshirt with brown capris. Today was a therapy day, so I had to look ready to see PEOPLE. Also, I had to vacuum my house because nothing is worse than therapy down on the floor when you can start doing "connect the dots" with the crumbs lining the floor and when therapists stand up to leave and have a crumb shower when they brush off their you-know-what. With hardwood floors, crumbs are as visible (and speak as loudly) as fireworks in the middle of the night.

Anyhoo, Addison was done with breakfast and she was parading around the house wearing one of my sleep wear tshirts that she picked up along the way. Carter was trying to grab the extra baggy material from her tshirt in one of his meaty paws in an attempt to bring her down.

I had finished my usual IV drip of coffee and set off to do the vacuuming.

Looooooking good. Hair is curled. Makeup is applied. Both kids are fed and happy.

Just had to vacuum and the therapist was set to arrive.

The Living Room was done. Oh wait. There's an ant.

I quickly squash the intruder and then vacuum up the carcass. Whew. Crisis averted.

Wait. Another ant? And another? And another? WHAT??? There's an ENTIRE ANT COUNTRY in my living room!


I pull aside Addison's picnic table to spot a few carefully well placed snacks (such as chips and granola bar pieces) that she set aside to retrieve for the days that I am thoughtless enough to give her an unacceptable snack like a cucumber wedge or a grape tomato and she wants something else (yes, she actually does this).

To my horror, I spot BILLIONS of ants flooding the floor under the picnic table, fighting for a piece of the goods Miss Addison left behind.

Ummmmmmmm. Not good.

Making a quick decision, I put Addison in her room and shut the door (she immediately started crying, but I didn't have time to fight her off the remaining pieces of chip which all of a sudden looked irresistible to her) and I put Carter (sitting up) in the Dining Room.

I vacuum quickly, getting every ant that I possibly could. I then sprayed the rest with a bleach/water solution that seemed to do the trick nicely. (If you are an ant lover...I am sorry)

Efficiently, I got down on my hands and knees and wiped up the entire area with a paper towel.


I replaced the picnic table back over the spot just as I hear a big THUNK and SCREAMING!

Carter can now go from sitting to crawling, but this morning he decided to do it really fast and aggressively soooooo his face smacked into the hardwood floor in a way that caused teeth to cut through a lip.

I run over....and blood is gushing out of his mouth and all over his face.

He is WAILING. Addison is still crying in her room.

I whisk him off to the bathroom where I wipe down the worst of it and try to determine the source of the blood flow. I place a cold, wet washcloth in his mouth and he calms down and sucks on it a while.

I now have 3 minutes before the PT arrives and Addison is not dressed yet.

I place Carter back on the floor with his washcloth and run to find a clothes for Addison and release her from her "prison" (full of toys and books).

We go back into the Living Room.

The therapist is here.

At the slightly shocked look on her face, I look down to realize that

1. My white tshirt is covered in blood from Carter's episode
2. My brown capris are spotted in bleach marks.

No time to change. It's time for therapy (and plus most all of my other outfits that could be worn to see PEOPLE were downstairs in the laundry load that I started a half hour before).

We spent the entire therapy outside, so add in large patches of dirt over the now speckled capris.

After going back inside, Carter finished his pears and then wiped his face on the one clean spot of my shirt (smack dab in the middle) and of course my hair was a mad sight from being whipped about from a "fake choking" Carter and a "MORE SLIDE PLEASE" Addison.

By the time therapy was finished and both kids were down for naps, I looked like something you might find crumpled in the street with a discarded sign weakly proclaiming "WILL WORK FOR CLEAN CLOTHES"

-or a paper towel in an ad that claims it can get up even the worst of spills (right before the paper towel is about to be tossed)

-or a completely messed up modern painting that makes everyone cry and even causes even the most liberal to doubt innate goodness.

-or a kitchen backsplash after a particularly rambunctious pan of spaghetti sauce did "the splatter"

I might as well wear all brown with WELCOME inscripted across the front so that people can just go ahead and wipe their feet on me when they come in the front door.

I try. I really, really do.

But sadly, the world will never know.

p.s. hopefully I will have the caption contest winners announced in the next couple of days. SO hard to choose!

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