Monday, August 27, 2012

Toothbrushes and Toddlers

At the moment I have one child-size toothbrush jammed down the bathroom sink drain, one in the garbage can after being retrieved from the drain, and two just plain MIA. And no, that's not because I haven't thought to replace them lately, that all happened THIS WEEKEND.

What IS it with small children and toothbrushes?!

I'd fare better if I just bought a stockpile of them from toothbrushes"R"us and called it a day. Then they could be really disposable. Use it once, throw it away, kids!

And then I'd get a sharps container like the ones they hang on the walls in the mall bathroom.

That way they wouldn't be fished out of the garbage and used by little miss Babycakes to brush the dog's teeth right before shoving it in her own mouth.

Or brush the dog's fur.

Or scrub the floor/window/toilet/chair/piano/cupboard/stove/what-have-you...

Once I even absolutely insanely bought the kids these cool toothbrushes with suction cups on the bottom so you could suction them right to the edge of the sink - UPRIGHT so no germs contaminate them.

Except that it was much, MUCH more fun to suction them to the MIRROR, then laugh hysterically when the suction failed and they popped off and shot across the room, landing in random places all over the bathroom.


No matter how many times they were cautioned against it, those suction cups were entirely too entertaining to resist, and now and then after the children had all brushed their teeth and gone to bed I'd be sitting in the living room and hear the tell-tale "Pop!" of a toothbrush and the thud of it landing...


Those didn't last long.

At all.

My personal favorite is watching Evelyn get a hold of MY toothbrush and wander around the house with it. It doesn't seem to matter where I hide it or how high up it has been put, she has radar for it.

I thought toothpaste was bad. For a while there the kids would have toothpaste smeared around the sink like a hot glue gun gone wild, until I learned it was best to just hide that, too, and move the hiding place every few days so they wouldn't catch on to where it was coming from when I'd personally line them up and dot their toothbrushes every morning and night without letting them close enough to squeeze the ever-lovin' ENTIRE contents out of touch the elusive toothpaste tube.

I mean, I guess I could start hiding the toothbrushes, too, right? Maybe in a ziplock bag in a drawer in the fridge. Seems to be the only "hiding" place left that hasn't been stuffed full of other contraband not-for-children items until it gets discovered by grubby little hands, decimated beyond recognition, and shoved back into place surreptitiously until I discover the carnage at some later time.

Confession: Usually when I find that one of my hiding places has been discovered, I peek in, grimace and groan, then close it back up, preferring to pretend my house is NOT full of these pockets of disaster clean at all times and well-organized.

Maybe what I need isn't stock in a toothbrush company, maybe what I need is to hire someone to come organize my house (while I conveniently take a vacation, of course).

Then I'll have lots of new hiding places for things again!

Problem solved.

Thursday, August 02, 2012

The Feel of Cheap Things On My Skin

I *like* the feel of cheap things on my skin. 

Raindrops falling softly on a spring day.

Flannel sheets on a cold winter night.

My husbands arms around my waist.

The sand between my toes at the edge of the Torch Lake Sandbar.

Silky baby hair brushed between my fingers.

Soft, warm kitty fur against my cheek.

Ice cold creek water against bare skin on a hot, sticky summer night.

 Wind through my hair on a drive with my husband.

A hot shower after a long night up with babies.

Big kid hugs and baby's butterfly kisses.

Sometimes I feel a bit deprived without the luxuries I see someone else enjoying, but if I stop to really think about it....

No amount of money in the world could come up with anything but "cheap" substitutes for the real-deal things I've listed above. I'd rather have my feet in the sandbar than in a pair of Louboutins. I'd rather run my fingers through a baby's silky hair than over dupioni drapes. I'd rather have the wind through my hair riding shotgun in my husband's old truck that's paid off and way more function than fancy than in a Bentley. I'd rather dive into Torch Lake than take a Caribbean vacation. I'd rather have those flannel sheets than 1200 thread count Egyptian cotton sateen confections!

Okay, that last one is a poor example of real-deal vs. expensive substitute, but flannel sheets just absolutely ROCK when you live in the cold white north. "Uninhabitable", as my dad says!

So next time I am tempted to feel deprived, I'm going to look around and think of the things in my life that are the Real Deal. I'm going to stop to thank God for them, enjoy them, and appreciate them for what they are:

"Cheap" things that make me one of the richest women in the world.


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