Our house is always busy and slightly chaotic and messy. I used to be a complete neat freak, but let go of my OCD-ness with two kids. And so... if it ever gets quiet around here or the kids aren't jumping up and down on you with their elbows and knees poking you every which-way, then something is definitely up. Usually it has something to do with potty-training (almost inevitably) but I think most "quiet" moments revolve around some kind of big mess--dirt, water...poop.
What is it with kids and their total immersion in dirt and destruction that makes them so focused and intense and quiet? Sometimes I think that's why God made kids so noisy. Because then we would know something is wrong when they are quiet.
And something is most definitely up when the kids sleep past 6am. And 100% something is up when it is 8am and you haven't heard a peep. Which is precisely what happened the other morning.
It had been a very late night with the kids, which is not our normal. And the kids have been sick, so for Maggie to sleep in until 8am was a bit weird, but maybe it was just some sleep she needed to get better.
When we finally roused ourselves from bed and a delightfully late time of 8am, I heard a happy little chirp from Maggie's room. I walked in to find that she had stripped herself completely naked--unzipped/torn off her sleep sack, unbuttoned her sleeper, ripped off her diaper. 100% naked and delightfully happy. "Mommy!!! I WAKE!!!" My stomach sunk. Oh no. Please... Not poop. No poop from what I could see from the door into her dimly lit room. No smell.
It was only when I went to pick her up that I knew something was not quite right. She literally almost slipped out of hands. Her entire body was slick with oil. She clutched, very happily a completely empty container of Vaseline. It was e v e r y w h e r e.
All over her body. Her crib. Her sheets. Each of her stuffies (all 20 of them) were carefully, motherly smeared with vaseline. And she had run her fingers through her hair. Her soft blonde ringlets were slick, straight back, Greaser style.
It was right into the tub for her while Jordan googled to see the toxic effects that a bottle of Vaseline might have on the almost-two-year old body and digestive tract (just in case). Meanwhile, I lathered her with soap, rinsed her hair twice and patted her still sticky skin dry. What was I to do?
Her hair. It just was simply not presentable. She looked like she had been drenched with a bottle of olive oil. Even after it dried, it didn't look dry in the least bit. Six hair washes, several cups of cornstarch and two days later, Maggie's hair is finally sporting a hairstyle more in keeping with the carefree spritely almost-two-year-old monkey she is.
Two lessons: 1) If you ever need to pretend you have grey hair, I have found the perfect natural products for Halloween costumes in our future.
2) When it's too quiet, trouble is brewing.
Goodness, I love this face. Our children are such characters.... One of the things we both simultaneously love the most about them and what also drives us crazy. Would we have it any other way?
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