Finger Painting & Lost Keys

Yesterday was one of those afternoons where the only thing that gets you through the wrath and fury bubbling up from within and prevents you from killing your children with your laser beam eyes is the reminder that hopefully, one day in what I'm sure will have to be the distant future, I'll get a good laugh out of what my kids have just done.

I was in the kitchen getting dinner started when I heard the kids up to no good in the bathroom. They were playing in the water and had been suspiciously quiet up until this point. I knew something was up. I walked in there and asked what was going on and Harrison answered:

There was a small problem but me and Harper are cleaning it up all by ourselves. You don't need to help us, Mom, we've got it under control!

Rigggght. Nice try there, son. Upon further investigation, I quickly realized that what they were trying to clean up all by themselves was poop. Poop that was smeared all over Harrison's bedroom. The walls, the door, the table, the bed. It was AWESOME. One child knew he was in trouble while the other was completely oblivious to the fact that it is not an acceptable form of entertainment to finger paint with human feces. Harper, you're playing in your brother's poop?!?! Her response: a giant grin and an enthusiastic yeah, Mommy! as she held up her hands to show me like I was supposed to be proud of her or something. I still don't have the entire story but what I gather is that Harrison had an accident in his underwear and when he took them off to change it fell on the floor...and then they decided it would be fun to play with it?? Good grief, my children are disgusting.

So that's how my evening went. I'm nowhere near ready to laugh about it yet, but I do have faith that that day will come. Which brings me to my next story.  This all took place last summer, and over a year later I am finally starting to see glimpses of humor. :)

This story involves what was supposed to be an uneventful trip to the grocery store. But with a then 2-year old and 1-year old, those kinds of trips were few and far between back then. This one trip in particular took the cake for sure, though.

I think I made it through one aisle of produce before they started getting antsy. I gave them snacks which immediately got thrown on the floor. So I dug around in my purse for any other forms of distraction and came up with my keys. Note to self: DO NOT EVER DO THAT AGAIN. I'm sure you see where this is going.

We get our cart full of groceries and pay for them and then I quickly realize my keys are nowhere to be found. I had that terrible sinking feeling in my stomach when I realized that no keys = STRANDED AT GROCERY STORE. By this point the kids were thoroughly melting down. We're talking crying, fighting, and I could smell that Harper had a dirty diaper but had no way of changing it since her diapers were in the car. I frantically started pushing our giant, impossible to steer car-cart (WHY did they have to make those things????) up every isle with one kid kicking and fighting me in my arms (because he wouldn't keep his seatbelt on and kept climbing out) and another kid wailing because her brother scratched her. Icing on the cake: it was on her face and she was bleeding.

I distinctly remember looking down and not making any eye contact because I could feel the stares. We obviously made quite the scene because two separate people came up and asked me if I needed help with the kids. They were super sweet about it and had kind words of encouragement but that was the moment I officially felt defeated. So I did what any rational person would do: I started bawling. I checked lost-and-found one more time and still no keys, so I wheeled us outside so I could catch my breath and figure out what to do next. I called Rick and he had to leave work to drive all the way down to come pick us up. I parked us out by the watermelons and just sat there crying for 30 minutes next to my tired babies and cart full of paid-for-but-quickly-spoiling groceries. But at least my emotional breakdown startled the kids enough to stop their fighting. ;) They actually started being really sweet again. Harrison kept asking me if I was okay and why I was sad and offering to give me kisses.

Thankfully, when Rick got there he checked customer service one last time and someone had just turned them in. I guess they had picked them up and held onto them until they were done shopping and checking out. So at least we didn't have to pay $300 to a locksmith. We've been there, done that. I'm starting to think Harrison is conspiring against us. :)


Christy said…
Dang, girl. I think this is the worst I've heard. Good to remember we will see humor one day!
Jocelyn said…
Bless your heart! Both of these stories made me smile, but only because I know I would have *lost it* too! Soon the poop story will be funny too... I'm so glad Harrison had it all under control! :-)

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