This is an extremely rough draft I did for my English class blog. Enjoy!
Today as I sat down and started to think about what I wanted to write about this week my mind wandered back to a time when my kids were a bit younger and I had what I suspect was a tiny emotional break down. Now looking back I think about this day and re-tell it to people for some comic relief because honestly it's absolutely hilarious. At the time, not so much though.
It all started the morning after I had just finished painting my sons new bedroom set red. Yes red. All day long I slaved out in the garage painting away while Halli (then 3) tried to get her hand, foot, nose, any body part she could into the paint can. She succeeded a few times but all in all I would call the day a success. So after putting the kids to bed I hammered on the lid to the paint can and hid it on the very top shelf of the pantry in the back. ( I had to get on a chair just to get it up there) Fast forward to the following morning at about 6:30 am. Through blurry, sleep eyes I see my 3 year old princess jumping on my bed and guess what? She has something red ALL OVER HER! Somehow the little stinker figured out where I had hid the paint and gotten into it. But how? At this point I'm starting to panic thinking about the mess that would be all over downstairs in my brand new kitchen. ( I didn't mention that this was our new home we had just moved into) Anyway - I slowly got out of bed and crept down the stairs like I was stalking a burgeler or something. When I finally got up the courage to peek around the corner into the kitchen I wished I hadn't There was red paint EVERYWHERE! You know when a cartoon depicts an angry person and steam starts coming out of their ears? That was me. I came to the conclusion based on the crime scene that she had tried to pull the paint can down and dropped it causing the lid to pop off and red paint to splatter on every available surface in reach. After calling my Mom to come take my precious baby away for a while and give me a chance to calm down and clean up I started working like crazy to clean up the mess. While I am doing this my sweet little darling climbed onto the counter and dumped by glass of Coke onto the keyboard of my brand new $2500.00 lab top computer. ( It was destroyed) At this point I'm considering pulling my hair out cause honestly YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME! So now I am scrubbing my kitchen floor so the paint doesn't dry to it and holding a blow dryer over my computer in a feeble attempt to save it's life. Now my hands are really tied. About 15 minutes later I go looking for my cell phone to call my Mom and find out what the heck is taking so long, I'm going crazy here! Well what-a you know, I can't find my phone anywhere. Can this day get any worse? Bad question to ask. After 20 minutes of searching I walk into the bathroom and the floor is sopping wet? What the crap is going on now? The toilet is clogged with big lego's Halli had tried to flush and betcha can't guess? My cell phone. (For some reason my husband didn't add on the $3 extra a month water insurance to our plan) All you mothers out there can probably relate a bit when I say I was a little more than pissed off! I think this is the point that I started to cry. FINALLY my Mom shows up and finds me curled up in the corner of my bedroom holding a blow dryer to my computer sobbing, and a red paint massacre in the kitchen which my daughter is still covered in head to toe. Of course all Mom can say she is, "Oh dear". After a few chugs of Coke and some coercing I'm finally ready to go back down stairs and finish the kitchen. And just when I'm finally starting to calm down I hear my mom say, "What happened to your wall honey?" Do I even want to know what she's talking about? Probably not but too late now. At some point during all of the chaos sweet little Halli found a bottle of florescent pink finger nail polish and decided it would be fun to draw a picture on my freshly painted wall. Now if any of you have ever had to get nail polish off of something it usually takes off a coat of the paint underneath it too, which resulted in repainting the entire wall.
So after a LONG day of scrubbing the floor, fighting with the phone company, unclogging the toilet, saying goodbye to my new computer, and re-painting the wall, my husband came home to a wife who looked like she'd been standing in a hurricane on the coast of Florida and was seriously considering taking up drinking. Why do I tell this story again? Because It makes days like today seem like a cake walk. And to give you a good laugh.
