This morning the kids and I spent a lot of time upstairs cleaning up the bedrooms, moving furniture, vacuuming, etc. Everything was going along normally... Colsen was undoing at about the same rate we were "doing" so no surprises there. Right before lunch, though, I went downstairs for --quite literally-- a minute and then I heard Rayna say, "Strider and I are doing lotion." I yelled up, "No, Rayna, don't do lotion. [whatever that means] Put the lotion away." Then about another minute -- quite literally again - later, I heard Strider go into his room and start yelling, "Mom!! Come up here! Quick!"
I raced upstairs, ran into his room.... and found Colsen sitting on the floor with a big tub of Eucerin lotion, his arms in it up to his elbows almost. He was covered -- covered!-- in the stuff. All over his face, his hair, his shirt, his pants.... thick, thick, white lotion everywhere. He looked up and squealed with great delight, kicking his feet and plunging his hands back into the container.
I quickly moved into fast-forward, snatched him up and ran into the bathroom to rinse him off. He started screaming, arching his back, twisting (his basic tantrum mode that we see no less than 87 times a day) which meant I got lotion all over me -- my shirt, my pants, etc. Then he decided to try and keep shoving his hands in his mouth since he saw I didn't want him to do that, so now he's eating the pastey stuff. Lovely. I scramble to get the clothes off him, the globs of lotion off his skin, rinsing him repeatedly -- which, of course, does absolutely no good. I yell for Strider to bring me towels, Rayna to go to her room until she's 12 (because who do you think opened this critical container for Colsen?), and for Colsen to stop putting his hands in his mouth and to stop screaming!
Anyway, a few minutes later, I've stripped him down, got most of the stuff off him, and put him down. I start trying to wash the clothes and towels in the sink because I'm not sure what would happen if I put that much lotion in the washing machine (Anyone know??? Can I do that??), clean up the greasy bathroom, etc. As I'm starting to breathe normally again and calm settles over us, I suddenly realize that there is too much calm. Where is Colsen and what is he doing and why is he so quiet???? Welll.... c'mon, you know what's coming next... all together now:
He's back in his room, back on the floor, back in the lotion container and covered from head to toe AGAIN! What kind of birdbrain mom leaves the open container on the floor???
To save me time from having to write much more, feel free to just start reading from the 3rd paragraph (above) to see what I had to do next.
Unfortunately for him, Pete called about 5 minutes later to check in on us (he's up in Virginia, surrounded by friends, frivolity, and mirth this weekend). I'm afraid I wasn't overly enthusiastic about what a wonderful weekend we're having without him.
Anyway, I didn't pause in the middle to take pictures -- I mean, seriously -- but I did want to get a picture afterwards of Colsen's greasy head (I couldn't get all the lotion out) as proof of what had just happened. This child, however, doesn't sit still for a minute, so I chased him around with the camera for awhile, and only got these shots. I don't know if you can tell how yucky his hair is or not:
He was not being cooperative.... I think it was his way of saying, "DON'T PUT THIS ON THE BLOG!"
Too bad, child. Too bad.
I raced upstairs, ran into his room.... and found Colsen sitting on the floor with a big tub of Eucerin lotion, his arms in it up to his elbows almost. He was covered -- covered!-- in the stuff. All over his face, his hair, his shirt, his pants.... thick, thick, white lotion everywhere. He looked up and squealed with great delight, kicking his feet and plunging his hands back into the container.
I quickly moved into fast-forward, snatched him up and ran into the bathroom to rinse him off. He started screaming, arching his back, twisting (his basic tantrum mode that we see no less than 87 times a day) which meant I got lotion all over me -- my shirt, my pants, etc. Then he decided to try and keep shoving his hands in his mouth since he saw I didn't want him to do that, so now he's eating the pastey stuff. Lovely. I scramble to get the clothes off him, the globs of lotion off his skin, rinsing him repeatedly -- which, of course, does absolutely no good. I yell for Strider to bring me towels, Rayna to go to her room until she's 12 (because who do you think opened this critical container for Colsen?), and for Colsen to stop putting his hands in his mouth and to stop screaming!
Anyway, a few minutes later, I've stripped him down, got most of the stuff off him, and put him down. I start trying to wash the clothes and towels in the sink because I'm not sure what would happen if I put that much lotion in the washing machine (Anyone know??? Can I do that??), clean up the greasy bathroom, etc. As I'm starting to breathe normally again and calm settles over us, I suddenly realize that there is too much calm. Where is Colsen and what is he doing and why is he so quiet???? Welll.... c'mon, you know what's coming next... all together now:
He's back in his room, back on the floor, back in the lotion container and covered from head to toe AGAIN! What kind of birdbrain mom leaves the open container on the floor???
To save me time from having to write much more, feel free to just start reading from the 3rd paragraph (above) to see what I had to do next.
Unfortunately for him, Pete called about 5 minutes later to check in on us (he's up in Virginia, surrounded by friends, frivolity, and mirth this weekend). I'm afraid I wasn't overly enthusiastic about what a wonderful weekend we're having without him.
Anyway, I didn't pause in the middle to take pictures -- I mean, seriously -- but I did want to get a picture afterwards of Colsen's greasy head (I couldn't get all the lotion out) as proof of what had just happened. This child, however, doesn't sit still for a minute, so I chased him around with the camera for awhile, and only got these shots. I don't know if you can tell how yucky his hair is or not:
He was not being cooperative.... I think it was his way of saying, "DON'T PUT THIS ON THE BLOG!"
Too bad, child. Too bad.
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