The Queen's Rambles

Just when you think your kid is a handful, they go and have developmental milestones and grow another inch. Good grief, people, I am exhausted.

As I’m cleaning up one mess, she’s running around behind me making three more messes.

By the end of the day yesterday I had a bathroom covered in peanut butter; a kitchen covered in straws, jello, water, and soup; and a dining room floor turned red from soup dregs.

She loved peanut butter, but wanted to wash her hands herself. She wiped them all over the bathroom.

She tried to get a rag to dry herself off and pulled out the new pack of 200 straws. Then her brother came in and handed her a jello jiggler, which she proceeded to smear all over the place. I guess that got boring, because then she saw a pot of soup on the counter, so she dumped that all over the floor.

And there is always water everywhere. Always always always. We have a fridge with a water and ice dispenser and she knows how to get water. I keep it locked, but the six year old in the house does not understand the point of locking it down.

So yay! Toddler messes! She’s really tall and smart, which is a big problem. I took away the step stool, so she just opened up the counter, got out a big pot and used it to stand on.

I’m just happy she is terrified of the stove.

At least today was much, much better. There was still a mess, but not quite at DEFCON 1.

My friend came over this afternoon, and she is always a complete delight. We haven’t seen her in a long time b/c she has two kids and we all can’t seem to get healthy at the same time. It’s always so refreshing to have a visit with a friend who you really love.

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Ok, so that was all written yesterday or the day before. Who knows? Who can keep track. Elsa is napping with Mike, so maybe I have time to finish this post. I am so tired, I may fall asleep instead.

I was watching Fringe last night, all alone in the completely dark basement. It is not a horror show, but it certainly has its suspenseful moments.

Mike had taken Elsa up to bed earlier and never came back down. Suddenly I hear. . .

thump

thump

thump

Thump

THUMP

THUMP

I was starting to freak out. There was no way it was Mike coming down the stairs. He doesn’t thump. He goes creakcreakcreakcreakcreakcreak. Bad shape shifters were coming for me! They were going to suck my brains out! Tie me to a bed frame and jolt me with electricity! Shoot me full of illicit drugs!

I hear a sneeze and jump out of my skin. Elsa is standing there, happy as a clam, ready to play. Mike is no where to be found.

Mike finally appeared, over an hour later, in a complete panic about the Case of the Missing Elsa. Apparently he had fallen asleep before her and he had no idea she decided to leave the bed.

She had a bit of a cough and I was sure she would puke in middle of the night. Coughing always leads to puking for her. I am very happy to report that we had no pukage! Sure, she stayed up till midnight, but there was no puke.

———

I think I’m on a Zulily overload. I need to look at pretty things. Zulily has pretty things (it is one of those deal a day type sites, only with lots of daily deals for kids clothes). Elsa needs spring clothes. Zulily has lots of spring clothes. I like that they are not just the run of the mill Kohls/Macy’s/Costco clothes. I also like the instant gratification of buying now. I just hope they all turn out as cute in person as they look in the pictures. I am trying to be very discerning with what I buy. Not all cute things will look cute on Elsa, nor will all adorable items be practical. I’ve discovered that she needs really rich colors and A-line skirts. Pastels and sweater dresses are not her friends. Dresses in general are a waste, though I want to buy every single cute dress I can find. What’s the point when we don’t have any where to go that requires dressiness?

I also have a $10 Kohls thing to spend, so maybe I will go real shopping later. I should be a nice person and invite my young neighbor out for some shopping time, but I am not sure if I have the emotional energy for it. I feel bad for her situation, but I don’t really know what to say to her. Also, she really, really, really wants to cut my hair and I’m not up for that. She says she went to beauty school in Pakistan, but she has never actually worked in a salon. I don’t know if she has any practical experience at all, especially with white lady hair. I am not willing to risk my hair for good neighborly relations. I feel like I have very little going for me in the looks department, so I’m not going to let someone mess around with the one thing that can look fairly decent.

I suppose I should go do something on my To Do list while it is peaceful. Nothing like scrubbing the toilets while no one is pulling on my leg and screaming “Curus Jawg, Gurus Jawg!”