No, I'm not a recovering alcoholic, but this is what I tell people when they pressure me to have a drink.
"Come on!" they say. "You're out, away from the kids! Just have a beer."
"No thanks," I say.
"Come on... loosen up! One drink won't hurt you!"
"No- I'm good with my Sprite."
"Let me get you something. A cocktail? An appletini, perhaps?"
"I really don't drink. I'm a recovering alcoholic."
And they shut up and leave me alone EVERY TIME.
I'm such a wuss. I hate the taste of alcohol. I don't care if it's a glass of expensive red wine or a screwdriver... it all tastes what I imagine the Ajax stored beneath my sink would taste like. Smiling while trying really really hard not to grimace as I sip a glass of wine is not my idea of a party. Plus, I don't do well when I am "affected." There is too much silliness and I flirt too much. This pisses off the official husband of Holly Goes Lightly.
But today- today I am contemplating making myself several margaritas after the kids fall asleep and getting good and silly because this has been the morning from down under. (The fiery place- not Australia.)
A couple of work projects have kept me from my housework the past week-and-a-half. The laundry has especially been neglected. I was seriously contemplating just throwing it all out and starting over again but have since reconsidered and am now in the process of washing my seventh load. Two more to go, I think. (There was bed-wetting last night... that hasn't helped things.)
This morning, I set the twins up at the table with crayons and some coloring books and sat myself down a room away to fold the laundry. All was calm. The twins jabbered away for a while. Then, I heard them get down from the table. They scurried up the stairs, quietly, which is always a bad sign. I got up to see what they were up to and found a mess of marker stains all over the table and other parts of the kitchen.
When the twins evacuated the kitchen, they left behind a blue trail:
Kitchen floor.
Stair railing.
One of several newly decorated walls.
I found them in the upstairs bathroom, where they had decided to clean themselves up. They had hauled their wipes to the sink and were busily ridding themselves of the blue on their faces and hands.
I almost blew a gasket, but took a deep breath and decided (instead of screaming at them) to grab the camera and see what they did next. I would not have been such a cool cucumber had the markers not been of the washable variety.
After they felt they were sufficiently clean, they went downstairs and began wiping down the mess. It was all very reminiscent of Beatrix Potter's "The Tale of Two Bad Mice," which we had read the other day:
Later on, when I was putting clothes away upstairs (it's such a long process, the laundry), Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum took the handsoap off of the counter and put copious amounts of it in their hair. So I gave them a bath.
They'll probably need another one before the day is through.
10 comments:
And this is why I refuse to repaint the inside of the house, even though it is in desperate need of it, until the little two get through their color on the walls stage. The Boy is pretty much there, but Teeny Beeny is heading into it.
Some day we'll live in a house with art hung on the walls rather than painted directly on them.
okay holly, i have to to say good on ya mate.
after all, you've taught them well when you find them cleaning themselves in the bathroom.
this is a reflection of one of two things:
1. they are law abiding children and remembered that they should clean their messes.
2. they are remarkably intelligent and were trying to get rid of the evidence linking them to the crime.
it's a win/win really. either way, you should be proud.
After an unwelcomed offer of alcohol I usually reply "No I have an AA meeting in a little while"
Raney get's really embarrassed.
I never understood why parents give kids access to markers -- or really, anything. They should be kept in a locked case -- the markers, not the kids. Although, come to think of it ...
Now I have made it my mission to find some kind of alcoholic drink in which you would not taste the alcohol. I'm testing various concoctions at Pointless Planet HQ right now. I will work ALL NIGHT, if that's what it takes. We all need to act silly and inappropriate once in a while. I think that's in the Bible somewhere.
Oh, wait -- that was "The Bartender's Bible."
Oh yes... the twin hijinx are in full swing! My 3-yo girls have done the same thing but they weren't clever enough to go back and erase the evidence. I thought I was one step ahead of them when I hid all of the markers but apparently I should have also included crayons, pencils, pens, paint, and dish soap. (Just so you know!)
I'm always baffled by pics of families in magazinesl ike BHG who have gorgeous houses with white pieces of furniture. I figure those moms must be extremely uptight.
I am slightly proud of D & E's resourcefulness- I can't be sure what their agenda was, though.
I enjoy mixed drinks with lots of chocolate and calories. But as I'm drinking them I always think- this would be SOOOO good if it didn't have any alcohol in it.
Oh yeah- Anonymous, stop embarrassing Raney. Sheesh.
I actually gasped when I saw your blue decorated wall... I'm so pleased for you and them that it all comes off!
I'm also glad that your bad day wasn't from Australia ;-)
Thanks for sharing.
The alcoholic thing is genius (why does peer pressure to drink NEVER end?)
I like iced tea with Raspberry Vodka in it because it does not taste like alcohol to me.
I wonder, like The Editor does, why do we give kids certain things? Locked cages is another story! I always furrow my brow at the pediatrician's office when they ask if my 9 month old is using a spoon or if my 1 year old is using a crayon? Are you serious? Have you ever had a child that age? Why give them something that will enable them to impart more destruction on your world? God was looking out for us when someone invented the Crayola Color Wonder line!
Post a Comment