Touch of Spice

The mess continues

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I never even imagined the messes that come along with children and there are days I can't quite keep up with them.

Two little girls are a step ahead of me.

Katie, who used to cry and scream when you approached her with a lotion bottle is now unexplainable addicted to the stuff. She cannot resist a lotion bottle, or anything similar.

I try to keep those things out of reach, but there are a lot of things I now have to keep out of reach and my high places are getting crowded.

There's also a conspiracy going on here, I think.

Once I've moved a lotion bottle within reach, something calls my attention elsewhere. I lotion Nikki and Katie's yelling for a bottle, so I jump up get her a bottle and forget the lotion bottle's within easy reach.

A little while later, I catch Katie (it wasn't hard, I just followed the trail of Johnson and Johnson) smearing handfulls of lotion on the oven door.

It's better than her eating it, I suppose, which used to be the only reason she went after the stuff.

It was almost funny the first time I gave her yogurt to eat on her own. She was really good for the first few minutes, giving me the time to feed Nikki. The next time I looked up, Katie had yogurt in her hair, down her arms and was rubbing it into her face. Once she caught my attention she said one word.

"Lotion!"

Lotion's not the only thing that needs a guardian of its own.

Katie got a hold of diaper rash ointment the other day. By the time she was discovered, there was three-foot circle of Ointment ground into the carpet of her room.

She didn't really get caught, either. She came running out, so proud of her new look and breathlessly showing off her white-coated hands, feet, face and clothes.

Do you know how hard it is to get Ointment out of carpet? Getting it off of a two-year-old wasn't that easy either. As soon as she realized my intention, it became a game of "catch me if you can" that left partial, white footprints across the living room.

I'm still finding toys with smudges of the ointment on them.

My fault. After coating Nikki's butt, I left it within reach.

It's important that the door to any bathroom be firmly closed at all times. Of course, it usually isn't.

The next thing I see is Katie running around with a streak of tan foundation make-up across her cheeks, an indication of what I might find when I work up the guts to go into the bathroom.

It wasn't a pretty sight. Evidently the seeing her reflection confused Katie because her first attempts at putting on make up were all over the mirror.

Powder was strewn from one end of the counter to the other, made into paste by adding make up remover.

Thank God the lipstick was safe.

The toothpaste was not. It was in the carpet, in the drawers and for some reason, coated a hairbrush.

My fault, I ran out of the bathroom with taking the precaution of closing the door. And considering this wasn't the first time my make up had been violated, I have to say I knew better.

We bought a carpet shampooer shortly after Katie was born and it's paid for itself in spades.

Even with the help of technology, cleaning up after two toddlers takes a lot of time, energy and work and it seems like when I'm working on one mess, they're off plotting ways to keep me busy with the next one.

Revenge will be mine. That thought is the only thing that keeps me sane when I'm pulling action figures and a shredded roll of paper from the toilet.

I'm drafting chore lists already.

A kind man said to me: "You think it gets better, but it doesn't they get worse."

I'm not sure my house can take it.

More, I'm not sure I can take it.

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