Super Concentration

Once, when I was at the commissary, I walked upon a jack pot. They were selling HE 2x Concentrated laundry soap by a name brand for $0.75. I'm thinking to myself, "laundry is inevitable and with each bottle claiming at least 96 loads, I could be set for life". I decided not to get too greedy and only purchased 4 bottles. I did just buy two other mega laundry soap containers just days prior.

Life was good with my liquid soap. Until one fateful day when I walked into a nightmare. My laundry room floor was covered in blue free flowing super concentrated detergent. The smell was pleasant, but that was the only positive. Baffled, I began to wonder why or how this happened. Luckily the washer was still going, or I would have been stumped til this day (or misplaced the blame onto a child). Silly me put the soap container on top of the washer instead of back on it's convenient shelf. When spin cycle hits, a veritable earthquake occurs which sent the soap toppling to the floor.

Clean up wasn't fun and I still don't think all the soap residue is gone. Lesson learn well (four times over).

Her own style

Mia always knows what she wants. Sometimes it gets lost in translation to the great sorrow of everyone. But every now and then, we connect idea to reality. Mia has been trying to grow her hair out to be as long and flowing as any girl's imagination could devise. So, much to my surprise, Mia requested a hair cut the other day. She wanted it to be "short like Talia's so it could curl". Hmmm. . . Naturally straight hair vs curly locks. I headed to the internet for helpful tips on hair cutting and Mia found the style that she liked. Posh the former Spice girl was the cut of choice. I preformed to the best of my abilities and here is the end result.



Thank heavens that kids move frequently and my sister Emily is coming soon to help all the very crazy mismatched ends. I know when to stop.

Just Another Manic Monday

I confess that I am not a fan of 80's music at all, but this song appropriately described my Monday. You know the saying "Strike When the Iron's Hot"? I do and firmly agree with that sentiment. There are plenty of days when I putz around my house trying to muster enough oomph to get the basic of chores/activities done. So when my oomph arrives spontaneously, I use it for all its worth.

Monday brought normal house/kid stuff, dentist appointments, and baby sitting. No biggie. Because I felt like it, I painted our piano room, uninstalled two ceiling fans and installed two new ones, and cut Tiago's hair. By far the most challenging of all of the events was how sweaty and hot I felt and how noxious paint fumes can be without proper ventilation. Here are some before and afters of my day:






Disclaimer: (can you do that after the fact?) I understand this list isn't even a fractions of what other moms do. It just was a bit more then my usual day.

Remembered at the Alamo

After a less then fantastic restaurant experience on the Riverwalk with my dad and kids, we began our trek back to the van. About a block away from the restaurant, Tiago realized that a bathroom visit was so crucial that he began screaming loudly "I have to go potty". The only bathroom that came to mind was the public restroom at the back of the Alamo historical site a good two blocks away. Throwing Talia at my father and grabbing Tiago we raced to through the giggling crowds of people all too aware of the dire circumstances we were in. Tiago did all in his capacity to "hold" it in which in turn made the screaming louder. Poor kid, we were surrounded by running water. Suddenly, Tiago refused to run anymore and insisted that I pick him up.

Aside from the fact that he is getting pretty big, I was already carring the baby backpack, minus the baby, and Tiago squirms were making that option impossible. When we finally made it to the bathrooms, the women's restroom was packed with several ladies waiting quite impatiently in line. I shoved Tiago into the men's room and told him I would wait for him outside. The door shut and the screaming increased in intensity with the thought of using the bathroom without me. The women in line didn't budge or offer to allow a desperate boy the relief he needed. After the 3rd attempt to get him to go, a gentleman watching this show vocalized my thoughts.

"Just go in and help him. It's not like you are going to see anything."

Before I had a chance to think about the repercussions, I bolted into the bathroom, past the urinals and helped Tiago avoid an accident. It wasn't until his screaming stopped that I had the chance to think. First, that man had already come and gone and couldn't vouch for my craziness. Second, all the other men in the bathroom probably (and rightfully so) felt at least shocked if not embarrassed for my presence there. Third, I am pretty sure that it is slightly illegal for me to be in that bathroom (especially since that law hasn't strayed from the insanity of MD laws). Oh well, what was done, was done. I wish I had the courage to walk out with my head held high, but instead I quickly washed my hands and left the men and women outside with a great story to tell.