There are absolutely no pictures in this post. You'll soon understand why.
Let’s see…
This morning started when Willow poured the leftover contents of our breakfast smoothies from the blender onto the countertop, which obviously oozed its way onto the floor, the dishwasher, and then to the piles of crap that I have gotten way too used to having on the kitchen counter.
Then, there was the mixing of the sugar and milk on the kitchen floor while mommy was gone for .00002 seconds throwing all the smoothie towels into the washing machine.
You know when you’re a kid and your mom turns her head for a second and you take that time to douse your cereal with as much sugar as possible because you know it’s not a mom-approved amount (which makes it just that much better) and then by the time you get to the bottom of the bowl there is this thick, syrupy super-sweet gunk just waiting for you to slurp up?
Yeah, well that was covering my entire kitchen floor when I returned from the laundry room.
Willow went to timeout.
When I went into the bathroom to retrieve the only clean towels left in the house big enough to tackle the sugar-syrup fiasco, I came across two brand new rolls of toilet paper sitting in the toilet bowl, swollen with water. I calmly went to the kitchen to grab some plastic grocery bags to deal with the soggy toilet paper situation; I was soon reminded that my floor is covered in goo.
So I climbed my 7-months-pregnant self on to the stove to reach the bags.
Don’t worry, I completed my mission unscathed… I’m just glad nobody was there to see it. It was not pretty.
On the way back to the bathroom I heard a never-good, “Ugggh, Willow!!”, which is exactly what Willow says when she’s made a huge mess.
From her nice little corner of timeout, somebody managed to find a permanent black marker and then proceeded to draw all over herself and the front door. Strangely enough, I was grateful she found the marker because I knew yesterday it had been misplaced and needed to be located before something bad happened. Well…
Before I even said a word, Willow informed me she had just had an accident in timeout. I wanted to tell her that if maybe she had been focusing on her bodily functions a little more than she was on decorating herself and my entryway, there wouldn’t have been a problem.
I bit my tongue and stripped off her clothes.
I put Willow in the tub, turned on the water, and shoved my hand into the toilet to grab the TP using my plastic bags-turned-gloves. I turned back around just in time to see- but not in time to stop (of course)- my sweet child squeeze a half-full bottle of shampoo onto the floor, with the entire lid off, to ensure the quickest flow of suds, I’m sure.
I took the now-empty bottle from her hands and shut off the water. I never even managed to plug up the water in the first place, so I walked into the kitchen to throw away the evidence of the Shampoo Spill as well as the Toilet Paper Soak.
Oh yeah, that’s right, my kitchen is still freaking covered in goo which is slowly turning to glue, which is covered in the last usable towels in the house.
Awesome.
So, I climbed my 7-months-pregnant self back over the stove to toss the crap in the garbage, which is when I accidentally opened the oven door with my hand.
*I think everyone should know at this point that my hand on the oven door was holding up almost all my weight as well as keeping me from falling.*
Needless to say, the opening of the oven door skewed my already-messed-up sense of balance even more and I was tossed, inevitably, into the kitchen-floor goo.
I heard a “What was that?” from the bathtub.
I calmly replied, “Nothing.”
“I need a towel.” was the response I got.
I muttered, “Yeah, good luck with that.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay.”
I was picking myself up from the plunge into the goo when I heard Willow turn on the water.
“Turn it off, please.”
And yes, I did say please… because manners are important- even when half your body is covered in the stickiest, sugariest, grossest junk on the planet.
“What? I can’t hear you. I’m going to clean up my mess.”
“What mess?” -that’s right I had already completely forgotten about the pile of shampoo that awaited me once I returned to the bathroom.
“No don’t clean it, Mommy will get it!”
“What?”
…SPLASH, SPLASH, SPLASH, SPLASH…
Shit.
I literally peeled myself from my kitchen floor, stuck my foot into a nearby shoebox to prevent the spreading of the stick, and walk-shuffled around the corner to find soapy water flooding out of my bathroom and into my hallway.
I walk-shuffle-floated into the bathroom, shut off the water, picked Willow out of the tub, ditched my soaked cardboard shoe for a nearby flip-flop, went downstairs to look for something- anything- to clean up something-anything.
Then, from the laundry room I heard the distinct sound of dripping coming from the other room. I grabbed a pile of rags, dirty –I’m sure, and nervously peeked in the direction of the dripping sound.
Water was leaking from my bathroom, through the ceiling, onto my entertainment center in the basement. I half-ran (remember? pregnant) upstairs with my inadequate pile of dirty rags, half-sticking to my stupid flip-flop because of my goo covered foot. The water had advanced from the bathroom, to the hallway, and into the front room.
Somebody please explain to me how 4 quick splashes of water from a hair-rinsing cup equals total destruction of my 1st floor.
I’ll tell you how: because I’m me and Willow is my daughter. That’s how. THAT’S. HOW.
RECAP:
Partly wiped smoothie smears all over the counter, serious thicker-than-syrup-and-slowly-turning-into-cement concoction covering the kitchen floor, permanent marker all over my front door and my child, a puddle in the entryway, yucky-wet clothes tossed into a pile, warm soapy water slowly making its way through the bathroom, into the hallway and out into the rest of my house as well as leaking into the basement and onto my wooden TV stand, carpet, and lamp, I’m covered in gritty, sticky, kitchen floor goo, Willow is covered in permanent marker, wet, and naked because the whole ‘take a bath’ thing obviously didn’t pan out, there are no more towels to clean anything up or dry anyone off, and I can’t get to the only two sinks in the house without either navigating my way through sticky slime or wading through a lake.
I managed to stay surprisingly calm through everything. Really, I did. I even freaked me out a little bit.
-BUT-
and here it is...
I looked at the clock, it said 9 am… and then I cried.
At least I got the rolls of TP out of the toilet.
EDITED TO ADD:
I'm sure everyone will be glad to know that the milk-and-sugar cement has since been scraped off my kitchen floor. I used a dust pan as the scraper along with boiling hot water and then I mopped about 7 times, so the floor is no longer sticky.
The permanent marker has been Magic Erasered off my front door. It took 2 to complete the job... but it's clean. Willow is next...
I had to use dirty towels to wipe up the shampoo mess in the bathroom/hallway/front room. But that's okay because I think the soapy shampoo kind of helped cancel out the dirtiness of the towels. I guess it turned out in the end because my bathroom floor is now REALLY clean.
The basement was mostly unharmed in the making of the messes.
All of the dirty clothes and towels made their way down to the laundry room. I know what I'll be doing today: 4 basketfuls of my favorite chore. yeahnotreally.
Willow is still covered in marker and has not yet taken a bath. But there aren't any towels anyway, so I'm fine with it.
She IS taking a nap, however, which is what allowed the cleaning to commence.
I will no longer be hoisting myself on to any more appliances, kitchen or otherwise.
I got to take a shower to melt all the stickiness off of myself, but I had to dry off with a sweatshirt... no big deal.
Oh, and I only cried for a minute or two because my doctor's office called and interrupted my self-pity party to inform me that I had missed my appointment this morning. For the second time in a row.
AND... I wouldn't trade in my little Willow for anything in the whole world!
I think she was just testing me...
