Here Is What My Afternoon Looks Like

I have this list of things that I am supposed to get to everyday. The list isn't that hard. In fact, it is super easy.

If you take away the fact of the three littles who add to it.

And I don't really want to take that fact away. Because then where would I be?

Today, I was rolling along just fine, checking off things from Monday, when I wasn't home. And even if I had been, it was my birthday, and I think my new rule is to get away with doing as little as possible on my birthdays from here on out. I also checked off from Tuesday, when all I did was laundry and meal prep and try to rest some. Yes, the morning was going well. Quite productive, really.

I called the kids inside to eat their lunch, which they did and then excused themselves to go downstairs and play. I let everyone down, wiping faces and hands and off they went, down stairs to play while I finished clean up in the kitchen.

There were a little less than 30 minutes until nap time.

A lot happened in a very compacted amount of time. The phone rang with business to tend to, Elizabeth started coming unraveled, as she tends to do so close to nap-time, my brain froze up on all the intelligent decisions I could have made as I tried to talk to the super nice and understanding lady on the other end of the line and my child whined at me, and then finally it all quieted down. I managed to occupy Elizabeth with a puzzle, I called Joshua on the phone to relay information to him, and while on the phone with him, Elizabeth decided to rejoin her siblings downstairs.

And Joshua very gently informed me what the easiest route to take would have been. A route that never occurred to me. Because my brains are toast. Gone. Dis.funct.ion.al.

I hurriedly got off the phone with Joshua and scrambled to make things happen a different way with the business I was trying my best to handle in a professional manner so that other people could have an easier time of it. Just as I rang off after finally having gotten things straight, Elizabeth comes up the steps again. I was back in the kitchen, trying to put away the last of the dishes when I heard her whining and making her way up the steps.

Now my little Elizabeth, nobody told her to enjoy this baby stuff. She is all in a hurry to get all 'growed up' on me. Incidentally, she now insists on coming up the steps on her feet. Not hands and knees, the safe way for a just-turned-17th month old, but like her sister and brother and mommy and daddy and everyone else in her little life. On her feet. She won't even hold the slats of the banister, but would rather lay her hands flat on the wall and turn her little body at an odd angle as she precariously makes her way up.

I rushed from the kitchen to assist her in her ascent, and when I got to the top of the steps, my heart stopped. The child was covered in blood. Face, hands, arms, shirt. And she was whining. Not crying, just the please-put-me-in-bed-I-am-so-tired whine. I scooped her up and dashed to the kitchen to run water over her hands and arms then sat her up on the counter to start cleaning her up and trying to figure out where all the red was coming from.

By then, she was crying, I suppose because I scared her. I kept asking her what happened (like she is going to answer that with her limited vocabulary) and continued to mop her up. Finally, it dawned on me that there were two different colors of blood here. One blood colored, and one rose colored.

Hmmm.

Upon closer inspection, I realized what had happened. Elizabeth had found my lipstick. I have two tubes that are older than any of my children, because I only wear the stuff once in a blue moon. And I honestly didn't realize it was within the reach of little hands. I relaxed substantially as I finished cleaning her off and refused to let my mind wander to my bathroom and what it's condition might be. First things first...I needed to get this child changed into clean clothes and put her down for her nap. Even if it was a few minutes early yet.

And then the phone calls started again. I managed to get all three kids in bed for their naps while I tried to keep things straight with the nice lady on the phone. Then I had to call all other parties involved and make sure everyone was in the loop and knew what needed to happen and when. (I am being vague about this business stuff, I know, but it's really drawn out and boring, I promise.)

When things calmed down again, I went down stairs to assess the damage. The damage starts midway up the staircase, or rather ends there. Remember what I said about hands flat on the wall to balance herself? And the lipstick on her hands? Do you know what red lipstick looks like on flat paint?

Well, here, have a look-see:




I now know what this looks like. All to well, really. What I don't know is the best method for getting lipstick off flat paint. Which is why I am sitting here, tapping this all out. To put off the inevitable cleaning that is ahead of me (so much for completing today's list). Also to give you a mid-day chuckle.

Oh, and that whole 'this is where I keep our memories because I refuse to scrapbook' thing that I have going. So go ahead, laugh it up. But when you are done, send me your expertise on how to clean this up. Mmm-kay?

Heh-oooo? Ganny? Pwease still love me?