I Blame The Fumes Of Bathroom Cleaners For This Run-On Post Tonight

About two minutes ago, I sat down in front of the computer, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when something zinged right past my face and landed on the desk.  I won’t lie.  My first thought was, “Bee!  Bee!  BEEEEEEE!!!

Even though it’s March.  Even though bees don’t usually make an appearance in Small Town, USA in March.

As it turned out, it was a ladybug.  She had landed on my desktop and was happily cruising along, and I let her be.  I have a thing for ladybugs.  I would trip over my own feet to avoid stepping on one, if she was crawling along the sidewalk.  I catch them in the house and set them free outside.  (Just not in March.  When it’s cold.  Because she would freeze.)  I’m on very friendly terms with ladybugs.

And also caterpillars.

The two of us — that ladybug and I — were coexisting happily, right here at my desk two minutes ago.

And then Cat 2 jumped up onto the desk, about sixty seconds ago.  I gave her a pat on her head and encouraged her to JUST MOVE YOUR CHUBBY SELF, SO MAMA CAN SEE THE MONITOR.

She moved.  I opened up my blog.  And then I heard, “CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH.”

It became quite evident to me a minute ago that Cat 2 and I do not share the same affectionate feelings toward ladybugs.  I’ve NEVER eaten one for an evening snack before.

Cats disgust me.


Earlier this week, Thing 2 and I spent the afternoon at Sister’s house, playing with Cousin H, because the time change was quite unkind to my baby.  We were both having meltdowns on Monday, because neither one of us knew exactly what time it was and Thing 2 refused to nap, so we escaped the house.

And somewhere, over cups of Starbucks that I had brought with me, Sister and I began complaining about the state of affairs in my refrigerator and shower at home, and in her son’s bedroom closet.

I told her that my shower was more of a science experiment than anything, and that I was pretty much certain we hadn’t actually wiped anything down inside our refrigerator since we brought Thing 2 home.

Which was… you know… a solid year ago now.

Sister went on to say that she felt the same way about K’s closet, which looked more like a bad garage sale in a tiny space than anything else.

And that’s when she had her epiphany.  She threw her idea out onto the table.  What if she came to MY house on Thursday, and helped me tackle the very ugly job of chiseling soap scum off of my shower and the boy’s shower, as well as helped me pull out yogurt that expired in November from my refrigerator?  In return, she wondered if I’d come over to HER house on Friday and help gut her son’s closet.

I was sold.

The jobs didn’t sound hard at all, especially with the scrubbing power of not one, but TWO, maids.  We figured we’d be in and out, like Navy SEALs, in record time.

In my happy little mind, I envisioned The Littles entertaining one another wonderfully, while we worked, so that neither one of them was in the way.  It was going to be the stuff fairy tales are made of.

The reality was that The Littles unloaded everything we tried to pick up.  And they got into the shower while the water was being sloshed around to rinse the scum.  And they pulled all the salad dressing bottles out of the fridge while we were scrubbing it.  And basically it took four hundred hours to clean two bathrooms and a refrigerator today, while Sister and I intervened fourteen thousand times to say, “You can’t have ALL the toys to yourself; you MUST share!”

But?  Do you know what?  The Littles had a fabulous time together.

They quickly realized that they could pull out twice the amount of Scentsy bars with a partner in crime.

(And?  The cookbooks?  Yeah.  89% of them are just for show.)

I know that this snapshot of Thing 2 makes it look like he has a drooling problem.  The reality is that he was VERY ENTHUSIASTIC about helping scrub the shower down.

While the water was on.

Both of the babies kept holding the Scentsy waxes to their little noses and breathing deeply, so that they could smell them.  Apparently their superpowers are strong enough to detect the flavor of the wax, even when the package is closed.

At the end of the day, I had reaffirmed in my mind that I could never run my own daycare.


At all.

Oh, I love Cousin H.  I love her to pieces, and I swoon when she smooches me square on my lips.  That’s a whole lot of sweetness to take in.  She’s a heap of precious.  And Thing 2 and Little H are wonderful together.  But?  If I had twelve of those little fellows and ladies to unload my Scentsy waxes and throw clean dishes out of my dishwasher, I might become a Valium user.  22% of our day was dedicated to scrubbing.  The rest of the day was dedicated to picking up what The Littles had thrown all over.

And I am exhausted.

But my showers are so clean right now, a host of heavenly angels could use one of them.  I pretty much threatened the boy with horrible pain if he messed up his bathroom in any way tonight.  I just scrubbed all the pee off the toilet base, and Mama would like to sit back and enjoy the feeling of knowing that bathroom is CLEAN for ten minutes, before someone ruins it.

And I bribed Sister to never tell exactly how awful my showers were.  I’ve sworn her to secrecy, because the entire world doesn’t need to know what a horrible slob we are.  I can clean the house, but if there’s a shower curtain to pull in order to hide things?  Well… I’ll yank it closed every single time and not bother with the elbow grease.

Y’all have a great weekend.  I’m off to bed.  And I’m hoping like crazy that I can get the sound of a ladybug being eaten alive out of my head.

1 thought on “I Blame The Fumes Of Bathroom Cleaners For This Run-On Post Tonight

  1. Love, love, love seeing pictures of your little one with “cousin H”. I love keeping up with you and “sister”. It makes me feel closer to home.

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