Slimed

It was a slightly harried morning for at least part of the treadmilling around family, but nothing I couldn’t handle. The children both slept through the entire night in their own beds, which frankly is a rare occurrence and one to be celebrated (so YAY!). I managed to get ready for work, pack for the business trip I will be flying out for this evening, and get the kids sitting contently at the table with pop tarts (The Boy accepted the generic pop tart this morning if and only if his was TOASTED) and milk all before 7 am. I sat down with the kids and ate my bowl of Kashi Go Lean Crunch (seriously yummy cereal that manages to keep me satisfied with no grumbling tummy until noonish), and the kids shouted different silly words across the table. I still don’t understand why it is funny to say “Bip,” but it is. I also don’t really understand why the game we’ve titled Broken-OR-Fixed is such a laugh riot, but it is too. I’m going to digress for a moment to describe the game so you aren’t at a disadvantage: 3.5 year old holds up whatever food item he has in front of him, and asks you “Broken or fixed?” You size it up and respond appropriately, 3.5 year old says “yeah that’s right!” Repeat until food item is completely ingested. The game works especially well with spaghetti (NO SAUCE Mommy!), but almost any food item can be substituted. The Girl has caught on to this game too, she will come out with “bow-ken o fix” out of nowhere sometimes, it is really fun to have a parrot in residence.

Anyway, back to my morning…I cleaned up my dishes from breakfast and was about to herd the kids out of the dining room, when The Girl dropped her milk glass on the floor (silly Mommy gives her a glass cup because she is tired of plastic sippy cups), it shattered of course, and The Boy jumped up to help. Barefoot Boy was directed back to his chair while I cleaned the mess. No biggie, I didn’t even swear, though I might have said “Shoot,” and I wonder where The Boy picks up his non-swear swear words. I got the kids dressed, off to daycare, and even made an extra trip home to pick up a supply of diapers for The Girl to have at daycare (the advantages to living 2 blocks from daycare). Our DCP forgot to tell my DH that The Girl was out of diapers at pick-up yesterday, but I figured something was off when I changed a size 6 diaper off of her size 4 butt last night. I completely spaced until I said goodbye to the kids at daycare, and then confirmed with our DCP that The Girl was in fact out of diapers. I made it to work a tiny bit later than I’d like, but given that I’m flying out for work this evening not a big deal.

It wasn’t until after I’d been at work for nearly an hour that I realized The Girl had managed to slime my head with pop tart slime. My hair was caked with gooey strawberry goodness. There used to be a time when I would have noticed that right away, and even washed my hair. Today, I didn’t notice right away, and upon discovery simply picked the sticky stuff out of my hair and went on with work. I am actually so far over to the dark side that little reminders like pop tart hair and baby socks in my shirt sleeve make me smile and think fondly of my children. I can still vividly recall the day I was sitting at work after The Boy was born thinking that I could smell his baby smell lingering with me. It wasn’t until after lunch that day that I realized I smelled his formula/breastmilk spit-up in my hair.