The other day I was straightening up the house. Quite why, I’m not sure of, because it never looks like I did anything. But I was. And I suddenly remembered that I had left my makeup out the night before. I made a dash into the bathroom to find that I had, in fact, put it away already. Go me. Pat on the back.
About an hour later, I decide to give the girls a bath because
they’re making me lose my ever-loving mind and I need to keep them contained they were messy. I plop them in, add some bubbles, and it’s a few minutes of splashing happily while sit there ignoring them and texting working on my electronic grocery list. I go to prep the towels for bathtub removal, and hear Goo say:
Hey, Mommy? The bath is messy.
What do you mean the bath is messy? It’s a bath. It’s the opposite of messy.
But sure enough, I turn around to find Smush, sweet little grin on her face, smearing mascara all over herself and the sides of the tub, which then ran into the water and turned it gray. Super awesome.
It was annoying that I had to drain the water. It was annoying that I had to scrub the tub before filling it again and scrubbing the girls clean. But the real kicker was this:
I seriously tried. Legitimately made every effort to get all mess-making supplies to their proper child-free containers. And what do I get in return? A stealth baby who somehow sneaked it into the tub anyway, and made a mess in the one spot that is, by nature, virtually mess free.
I give up.