Sunday, 3 February 2008

This is what happens when you have a clean house.

Serves me right. I went to bed with a clean house. As anyone who's ever had small children can attest, these creatures despise order and cleanliness. On an ordinary morning, I would have stacks of dishes on every available surface in my kitchen. However, on THIS morning, the kitchen was spotless. Which means that Lillian, bless her stick legs and helpful heart, had plenty of room to wander along the countertops wreaking havoc - er, "making breakfast" - at every available opportunity. You know that ridiculously high cupboard that only the freakishly tall can reach without a ladder? That's where we keep the cereal. Apparently we now keep it loose and all over the dining room floor. Moving along to the next cupboard, we find 6 empty kool-aid packets of varying colours, missing both a small strip of paper at the top and all of their rainbow-hued contents. In the land of 5- and 6-year olds, kool-aid mix is best kept in the teapot. This is also the ideal vessel for holding prepared kool-aid. And by prepared, I mean a teapot full of water, 6 packets of kool-aid, and equal parts garlic salt. Mmmmm. Doubles as Drain-O. As for the bran-flakes berber, the small mobile one has mastered the army crawl, and by my estimation should be quite "regular" until he's 25. Next stop: 9am.

9:20am. Lillian is successfully off to school, and due to the fact that we're now completely out of cereal, Rachel, Finn, and I went to Tim Hortons for breakfast. Rachel likes their muffins, I like to get out of the house, and Finnigan likes the lady who makes the bagels. So there we are, I'm totally zoning out on carbohydrates and caffeine, Rachel is regaling me with tales out of kindergarten (which sound remarkably like last-night's episode of The Simpsons... Hmmm...) and Finnigan is mowing down on the biggest oatmeal cookie ol' Timmy-boy has ever produced - which he always manages to snag for free. (He's got that bagel-girl wrapped so tight around his pudgy little pinchers!) Anyway, this wrinkly old no-hair gets right up close to us all and starts telling me what a lovely little girl Finnigan is. *Smacks forehead*. Let's see, blue blanket? Check. Blue snowsuit? Check. Blue hat, blue toy, blue bottle? Well, you get the picture. I was smiling and nodding vacantly as per usual. Enter Rachel. *~Insert huge, defeated sigh here.~* She pins him with that oh-so-"Rachel" look (you know the one: one hand on hip, eyebrows up into her hairline, nose in the air.) and says, in a voice one would only expect to hear in a cartoon, at a volume more suited to the Indy 500, "He's not a GIRL, he's my BROTHER. HE HAS A PENIS, I even SAW it." *Repeat sigh, add closed eyes.* To normal people, this would be embarrassing. To me, this is simply Rachel. Opinionated - and blatant - little beast.
~~~~~

Lunch Time: Rachel has decided that she wants tea and toast for lunch. Will that be all, governess? You should know that she went to school today wearing a pink shirt, pink skirt, red sweater... and brown floral tights. 'Atta girl.
~~~~~

I was cleaning out the bathroom today and I had a definite "light-bulb moment". I was going through all my makeup, and it occured to me that maybe if I let the girls play with some of my makeup, then my "good" makeup would not be snuck into dark corners and be used to decorate any available surface. Hey, I never said it was a bright light-bulb moment. I gathered up all my expired lipsticks, foundations, mascaras, blushes, and some metallic purple eyeshadow that I do NOT remember buying, and put it in a box. I pulled out the roll of kraft paper, covered the table, and put the box in the middle. Then I went and picked up my hurricaines, er, children.

Setting: Your average dining room.
Players: One 5-yo girl, one 6-yo girl.
Props: The most indelible forms of pigment known to man, in varying shades of dark.
Alternate Title: 101 Ways to Induce High Blood Pressure.
Subplot: Mother (off stage) has an aneurysm.
Scene: Disaster ensued. What was I thinking?!? Did you know that in the minds of little children, foundation makes GREAT fingerpaint? I thought it could be used sparingly to create skin tones. I forgot that "sparingly" does not exist for anyone under 22, except as it applies to restraint. The first length of paper will forever be remembered as looking like a giant skin graft. That got balled up and discarded.
Let's try this again. This time, MINUS any and all liquid forms of makeup. Take two actually turned out pretty good. Just in case you need a little artistic deciphering, this is "Princesses Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and Mrs. Veen's Beautiful Castle". Makes sense now, right?









My little "Artists":



























































~~~~~

THE BROKEN TOILET CRONICLES:

I have a broken toilet,
It just won't flush that poo.
So every time you "go" in it,
It just turns into stew.

I have a broken toilet
I don't know how to fix.
But it's my ONLY toilet,
So I'll pee into the mix.
I HAVE A BROKEN TOILET,
A bad thing for a girl.
I can't go pee outside on tree,
But if I pee in IT I'll HURL.
(I'll be calling a plumber tomorrow. Morning.)

~~~~~

Pictures from today:
This is Lillian trying to feed Finnigan his pureed peas. LOVE the open mouth, Lol! As you can see, this is reflexive - we all do it. :)












Mmmm, pureed peas.














Finnigan loves strings. Imagine his delight when I gave him strings he could EAT!

















I call this one, "Finnigan Testing the Effects of Gravity on Melamine Bowls".













I call this one, "Finnigan Testing the Effects of Gravity on Spaggettini Noodles". Yup, gravity works. On both sides of ones booster seat.
~~~~~
Judging by the amount of water on the bathroom floor after the girls' bath tonight, they think I LIKE mopping floors. Although, I suppose it should be done tonight after my minor disagreement with the above-mentioned toilet. Flushy McFlusherson decided he does not want to accept any new material. My plunger and I begged to differ. A rather sloppy and slippery battle erupted, and in the end we compromised. What was in went down, but nothing more. Let this be a lesson to everyone: Be kind to your neighbours, you never know when you'll have to shit in their house.
~~~~~
Tomorrow is another blog - er, day. Peace has been restored to this blogger's domain, three sets of eyes have closed, three pairs of hands are at rest. Three stack of dishes await me in the kitchen, three loads of laundry need to be folded, three hours since my brain shut down for the night, and only three more cupcakes left. And a partridge in a wilted, indoor pear tree.
Blog night. :)

3 comments:

Jenn--Jacob's Mommy said...

Kira,
I love the blog. It definitely brought a smile to my face. Did you somehow manage to send the flu you had to Texas?!?!?!?!? Cuz I think I have it now. Good idea with the make-up. Thanks for the laugh.

Jenn
(Jacob's Mommy)

Jenny said...

I love your blog! You are a great story teller and your life is WAY more interesting then mine! I'm looking forward to reading more!

Amanda said...

as for the bathroom...I can remember a couple of witches thinking their "magic brews" belonged on the bathroom floor...much to momma witches dismay....it MUST be a genetic trait!