The Great Paint Debacle! 3-9-07

Oh payback for my youth times seven! Category: Life If anyone ever tells you that being a mom is easy, call B.S. right then, right there. When they say, enjoy the time you have when they are little: it's true time flies, but they're also remembering it all from a distance...Everything's a little easier with time passing. I love my kid. I do, I truly do! But sometimes I want to pull all of my hair out, flop down on the floor and pound my fists on the floor until someone else takes over the parent role for me. Though I guess it's not all that practical. It all starts with the little things: discovery of capabilities. Did you know that opening and closing drawers is a laughable event? Kaleb loves opening and shutting anything he can get his hands on, he also is enchanted with anything that can serve as a container for another object. Hide and seek is a current favorite, for him, not so much with me! So far I've found: rotten sippy cups in the oven mitt drawer, trash in the laundry bin and laundry in the trash can, bath toys in the toilet, and numerous utensils in every crack and crevice that exists in my furniture. All of these little things I can handle, but it's the genuinely unintentional things that really get me, because how can I get mad over an accident? Well, apparently I can get upset fairly easily--but then I feel really bad, so I guess it evens out somewhat. But, picture this, then honestly think what would you do? I am busy typing away on the laptop when I hear a thunk behind me and see both dogs go running, never a good sign. So I close the laptop and turn to pick up whatever it was that was just knocked over...only I just hear this horrendous shocked scream, it's my own. I can't help it. The scream starts a previously startled Kaleb into an all out bawlfest. There on the floor lay an open paint canister once full of glossy white acrylic latex paint. Never before been opened, no screwdriver prying up the next to impossible lid--apparently all it takes is a drop on the floor and all hell breaks loose! So I immediately upright the can of paint and see that the puddle has already spread onto both linoleum and carpet, as well as dazzling streaks on my microfiber couch. I flip out. Knowing that the little streaks are going to dry quickly I run to the nearest hand towel in the kitchen. I literally run back in to see that Kaleb has walked into the puddle of paint, picked up the lid and is now running away from me, so I won't take the lid away from him. He panics and drops the lid, paint side down on the rug. Now I have to deal with a paint covered crying one year old who's fear reflex involves chewing on his fingers which are now glossy white and look as if he was morphing into Elmer's glue. I scoop him up and haul him to the bathroom to wash his hands and feet and strip off the paint covered clothing. Kaleb is still unsure of what's going on, and why paint tastes so horrible! I get him cleaned up enough for the moment so that I can get back to cleaning up the paint spewed about the living room. I find paw prints all over the tile. I'm running back and forth between the living room, kitchen and bathroom gathering whatever towels I can grab. By the time I get to towel #4 I'm in hysterics. I am crying, which makes Kaleb cry, which only makes me cry harder. Repeat ad naseaum. It was so bad that I honestly thought about asking my psychotic mullet sporting neighbor for some assistance, but alas I had neglected getting dressed yet that day. So realizing that I was completely on my own I go for the mop. I'm going nuts with towels and mops and trying to keep my overly curious dogs and son away from the disaster. Then Kaleb picks up the bucket of mucky paint mop water out all over the floor. So I go absolutely insane and am cussing like a sailor and yelling at dogs, paint, and John's job for not having him be accessible to where he could come and assist in an "emergency" like this one. I'm down on my hands and knees again and trying to dry the floor when Kaleb slips on the wet floor and falls and konks his head. Of course! I give up and take the once again paint covered kid into the bathroom. I know that the situation isn't getting much better or much worse in the other room so I run a bath for the both of us. I scrub off as much paint from my skin and Kaleb's poor little body. I return to the scene of the crime only to find more paw prints. I banish the dogs to their kennels outside on the back porch, I'm so furious that I march outside in my towel to lock them up. Two and a half hours of scrubbing in all, did it help? Not a whole lot. Eventually I decided to wave the white flag and surrender to the disaster and call my mom. Not that she would be able to remedy anything from another state, but sometimes a girl just needs to talk to her mommy when there's nothing left to do. Finally the whole scene calms down and Kaleb literally curls up on my lap and falls asleep. I find myself looking down on him and admiring what a sweet, precious, adorable little boy he is...Does motherhood come with selective amnesia?! I'm literally leaning on a newly splatter-painted couch pillow, so I couldn't have completely forgotten, but gosh darn he's a cute kid when he's asleep!!!