Saturday, October 27, 2012

Stain Genius!

I am a stain removing Genius.

I removed blood from a white linen dress, a pink linen suit, eons ago, when my son and stain removers were in their infancy. Back in the days when ingenuity, elbow grease and sheer stubborn refusal to part with particular garments lead Laundry Goddess around the globe away from our dependency on Tide, Whisk, Era...(enter your favorite soap here) and embrace a new culture (a cult following, most likely) of stain removing products.

I take in other people's stains. Bask in the applause....adulation.......right: I digress. Sorry. Staring at the ever-growing Mount Never-Rest of four children, three sports and one infant/toddler learning to feed herself, with a love of brightly hued foods, I do try to find the bright spots.

I'd like to point out, this is not it's first stain rodeo today. See the bubbles? The color above? What happens when stain remover meets THIS VERY COLOR! 

Not pretty. I am not pleased, but more...say.....annoyed. Naturally, this is the first wearing of this fabulous addition to our wardrobe. I'm preparing to put this sucker in the circular flier, including the hyperventilating accompanying such a move with brand new clothing.

Gave the Dawn/hydrogen peroxide mix a shot. Rubbed and scrubbed with my very own toothbrush. *Note to self: find new brushes I know we have somewhere.

Nada. Remained as stubbornly affixed as before. 

Baby Girl thought this foray into using the tub for reasons other than bathing fascinating. She also reaches just high enough now to turn on and off the cold water tap. Adds great excitement, for all involved. 

I reapplied, liberally sprinkling with Baking Soda, walked away, yanking Screech away from the wonders of faucet usage. I'm soooo not in the mood to play the On!/Off! game with her. Bad enough I'm leaning over the tub, her hanging off my calves, yanking my loosish pants to my ankles all the while splashing me hither and yon with cold water. 

I figured I'd wait until I'd gotten her into bed for a "rest", heaven forbid I use the word nap!! before nipping in to check on my soaking laundry. Yeah. Like three hours passed. 

I came in. Closed my eyes. Turned on cold water tap, rinsed. Opened my eyes to:



I told you.


Death Roll

My darling baby daughter - gasp - almost a Big Girl now! at 15 months, has a mind of her own. Recently, I've noticed some startling comparisons - not to my son, or the other kids that came with The Lovely J...but to Animal Planet.

Getting her dressed this morning, for example, after she invited herself into my shower, scratching me hither and yon on freshly shaved legs (I'm so in love with the Intuition ones - all included, I can still get my leg up higher than her head and reach, a feat raising the level of difficulty daily) she opened the door, doing her vocal version of "Let me out. I'm all done now."

Seriously? I made her wait until I'd have a final rinse. This would be that moment when all thoughts of luxuriating under warm water evaporated into the mist brushing the ceiling. Grabbing her towel first - so dumb, since standing there freezing doesn't bother her, or raise up goose-bumps on her legs totally wrecking the shave job - she took off.

Naked. Nudey, as we call it here. She is not remotely potty trained. Running around nudey isn't really a great idea. Not indoors at least. In the cool of New England autumn. Grabbing a diaper, her filly panties, since "fixing her frillys" remains to this day the only way to get her to lie prone for changing, I engaged in a wrestling match worthy of those guys who bill themselves as Gator Boys or whatever they're called.

(It's Gator Boys. I checked.)

The Death Roll made an appearance, albeit brief, thank you, I did learn a few things from my Big Guy, and.....I'm embarrassed to admit... the show. She rolled until dizzy, I swooped in on my (possibly) only chance, diapering her before she blinked.

I skipped the duct tape. And the electrical tape. There is something seriously wrong with one's mothering skills if diaper swapping entails duct tape. Unless it's holding the diaper on. Then that's totally acceptable.

Getting her into her clothing?

I might as well wrestle an octopus into a vest.

She's quick. She's elusive. She's downright stubborn. We watched a program about this particular octopus, clever enough to open chests, can get through the tiniest of holes......I'm raising it's mate, right here.

Plus also? When she was smaller, I thought it was so darn funny she's mimicked me shadow boxing. (yeah, I know, I should have known better....or at least expected the following): she uses it on me. Complete with the grunting noises heard on the Wild Monkey show when fist fighting over the last orange slice.

Took one right in the eye.

She says "eye".

A good thing, since apparently the ONLY thing separating her and the Animal Kingdom is the ability to communicate.

Oh, sure, I learned a lot raising my Big Guy.....but thanks to Animal Planet I have few new tricks up my sleeve. Or my bath towel, as the case may be.