Shave and a Hair Cut, 2 Bits…..

9 Feb

Friday morning I woke up and knew the day was going to be a doozy. We had about 6,000,000 things on our agenda, and glancing at the clock, I knew we were going to be late for all of them.  I was tired, dog tired, and was greeted by my usual wake up committee demanding breakfast,  proclaiming a desire to use the bathroom, and yelling in my ear various other commands.  I cast my gaze over at my husband, and in a desperate plea of optimism I asked:

“Can I get a shower before you leave? Please? We are going out in public today and the little one spilled yogurt in my hair yesterday.”

“Uh…… you know I have an early meeting today, right?  Why don’t you just put them in the playroom and jump in after I leave.  They will be fine.”  he assured me.

I had my doubts about the  “They will be fine” part, but   my desire to be clean tapped into my inner MOPTIMISM (Mommy optimism, where every mother wants to think and see only the best in their child) and agreed.  With that, he made his departure.

The girls were bugging me for breakfast. I threw some pancakes together, got their morning milk, and scurried them upstairs to the playroom, whistling joyfully  like a lover about to rendezvous.  I turned the TV on, and explained that we had a fun day planned (lie) and they just had to be good while I was going to go wash off.  I locked the gate to the door, and told them to stay in. Woo Hoo! I have a date with some hot water!

It is my estimation that in regard to motherhood and sleep deprivation, a hot shower is the equivalent to roughly 3 hours sleep.  As I stood, feeling the warm water on my skin, I felt all the tension and stress drain out of me. The girls seemed quiet in the other room. Yes, this was nice. I looked down at my legs and realized that it has been forever since I shaved them (October, maybe?) and that I could probably knit a village of orphans sweaters with all the hair I had on my legs, so it was time to shave.  No noise coming from the playroom, and I was thrilled that they were behaving. Maybe my husband was right,  I could do this all the time.  I set the deep conditioner in my hair, lathered up, and picked up my razor. To feel human again, it was nice. Like a woman…… A woman who grooms herself as opposed to a woman who takes a 30 second shower while her husband impatiently waits with one foot out the door. Sweet!   Nothing feels as good as 10 minutes alone with hot water all to yourself.  Not even a steamy cup of coffee is as rejuvenating and refreshing!

That is, until you hear the first scream coming from the playroom.

“AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”  I hear the big one moan

My heart races and leap out of the shower soaking wet. The screams continue, and are escalating. All I can think of is that the TV must have toppled over on her, or the ceiling caved in from the ice, the wails sounded truly emergent. I run naked and soaped up  thru the master bedroom, down the hall, and to the door of the playroom leaving sopping wet footprints in my wake.  I run as fast as I can, ass fat shaking like an overweight, naked,  Aquawoman who just escaped from the local mental hospital. The screams grow louder, adrenaline kicks into overdrive. My daughter is in trouble and I must get to her!  I step into the playroom and see the little one on top of the big one beating the daylights out her like she was the  strawberry shortcake  version of Mike Tyson. The big one is covering her face to block the blows  and is screaming full volume. I pull the little one off of her, still naked and wet. The little one, being pissed, grabs at my naked breast to pull herself up, as if they were hanging strap handles on a subway car. (In fairness to her, after I’ve nursed 3 children, that is pretty much what they look like) “ARGH” I scream in pain, and now I’m down too. The little one still has a death grip on my nips and she is kicking to boot. From my vantage point on the floor, I look around and pancakes are everywhere. Glitter from yesterdays art project is all over the floor. A big fat mess, once again. I shake her off me and head for the hall closet and grab a towel.

“What the hell is going on here?” I yell, realizing I shouldn’t have said hell.

“Lilah was mad ’cause I ate her pancake, so she threw glitter at me and started hitting. ”

This I believe. The little one is a foodie, and you don’t mess with her vittles.

I shoot Lilah a dirty look, she shrinks down on the floor. She knows she is in for it. I grab Darla’s hand, head for the door and lock the gate. The little one shrieks in protest “No leaving! No leaving! ” she chants and starts to cry.

Ignoring her pleas, Darla and I retreat back to the bathroom.  I tell her to sit on the floor with her book and wait for me to rinse off.  There goes my relaxing shower and the opportunity to finally shave my legs. I guess those poor orphans wont be getting any sweaters this winter after all.

Darla sits and sulks, licking her wounds and playing the sympathy card for being on the receiving end of the blows, which rarely happens in a fight between my two girls.  She announces that she needs to poop (naturally) and climbs on the toilet.  As she is whining about her arm hurting from the smack down, the door suddenly busts open. The little one apparently busted out of her holding cell in the playroom and wanted in on the action. “Miss you Mommy”  she proclaims and tries to shove her way into the shower fully clothed.  I firmly tell her NO, and tell her this is Mommy’s time for a shower, but I can see she isn’t buying any of it.  My breast still hurt from the last attack, so I am cautious to avoid swinging fists. I can see, she is filled with piss and vinegar once more.  Meanwhile, her sister has finished her business and jumps off the potty and starts demanding that I get a wet wipe and wipe her hind quarters  RIGHT NOW.  She sounds impatient, and her voice is rising to be heard over the little one, who is in the midst of singing the “No,  Mommy” chorus. Her face is darkening, her brow furrows and she is furious. Like a siren before a tornado, I know this means trouble. She tries to bulldoze her way in once more, and when that didn’t work, she went into a full $hit fit, screaming and swinging. With one swing, my glasses – which are sitting on the vanity,   land in the toilet. What a nice accompaniment to the turd du jour that is sitting there waiting to be flushed!! The big one is now screaming at the top of her lungs “WIPE….. MY…..  BUTT! ” The little one then grabs my towel off the hook and flings it at me, so it lands directly in the stream of water. Conditioner is sliding down my face, stinging eyes.  I beg and plead with them both to shut the f#@$ up.  Still soaking and one eye sealed shut and burning, I find a wet wipe for the big one and manage to calm the little one by letting her wash her hands in the sink while I rinse.  I resume my shower fast as greased lightening, and step out looking for my towel, remembering only too late that it was flung at me and lay dripping wet in a ball on the floor.  Cursing all that is sacred,  I turn to go fetch another, and BOOM, I’m down. Flat on my back, naked and wet, with my head now throbbing. It’s amazing they didn’t feel the quake of the fall  at the house next door. WTF just happened? The girls are cracking up, like it’s some sort of slap stick real life mommy version of a Three Stooges episode. Not so funny to me, as you can imagine.  With blurry vision, I look down and there is something white all over my left foot. I dab at it, pick it up to my nose and voila! Toothpaste! A pile of what looks like the whole tube, to be exact. Seems while I was rinsing off, the little one sought revenge for my attempt at playing bouncer at Club Shower, and squeezed the whole damned tube on the floor. And here I lay, sprawled on my back, slip sliding away while they hover over me, laughing.

I manage to clean up, clear out,  and retrieve my turd ridden glasses from the toilet, thanks to a lifetime supply of rubber gloves I always keep on hand. Thankfully, like every good mother, I keep an industrial sized vat of lysol on hand for these very occasions  The glasses soak and I pop in my contact lenses.  At least now I can see clearly. I assess the damage to the bathroom, and note that it now looks like I have on knee socks, due to the fact that I only got to shave the top parts of both thighs.  Looks like I wont be wearing skirts anytime soon.

The kids went back to the playroom, and I followed. The big one is still mocking  my misfortune, taking great joy in imitating the incident which I’ve dubbed my  “fall from paste”  . The little one laughs along at her big sister’s antics. Partners in crime, they are. I start laughing too. Then I stop…… something doesn’t look right. Oh….my….God……

“Darla, what did you DO?” I stammer in shock.

Her hair….she has bangs now….she didn’t an hour ago……

“Uhhhhhh…..”  she looks nervous,  ‘Nothing”.

There on the floor,  intermingled with the glitter, I see locks of her long honey blonde hair on the floor.

Incredulous, I spin around and looked at her, she shrugs her shoulders and says nonchalantly “I just wanted it cut. It was annoying me.  Now I look like Junie B. Jones”.

In my head, I hear the notes to “Shave and a Hair cut,2 bits”.

My head spins. We have  appointments for a photo shoot tomorrow. Junie B. Jones? Are you kidding me?A dearranged Betty Page is more like it.  I grab a pair of scissors to try to  salvage the damage.

That’s what I get for trying to be human.

.

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32 Responses to “Shave and a Hair Cut, 2 Bits…..”

  1. chris@getrealchris February 9, 2011 at 11:35 am #

    Dear Aquawoman, I will NEVER take showering by myself for granted again.

  2. cc February 9, 2011 at 12:29 pm #

    Oh god chris you have a way with telling your tales. I am lmao right now all at your expense 😦 thank you for sharing and once again making me smile

  3. The Girl from the Ghetto February 9, 2011 at 1:04 pm #

    You had me laughing at Junie B. Jones! Ugh, what a day, what a drag about the hair. I’m a step-mom, but I’ve seen that crazy hair cutting first hand, and it ain’t pretty. Especially when my little one did it in 3rd grade, “cause he was bored.” Sigh!

    • livelaughloveliquor February 9, 2011 at 10:40 pm #

      oooh yeah, boredom is thy enemy! Thanks for stopping by and reading – I liked your blog as well.

  4. Karen February 9, 2011 at 1:05 pm #

    HAHAHAHA, too funny!

    • livelaughloveliquor February 9, 2011 at 10:41 pm #

      eventually everything is funny, right? Glad you liked it, thanks for reading

  5. meleah rebeccah February 9, 2011 at 3:09 pm #

    Holy Hell woman! Im sorry I’m laughing so much, Im not really laughing AT YOU – this story is just way too funny.

    Seriously though, I will forever appreciate being able to take a nice hot shower IN PEACE.

    PS: I love the term: ‘MOPTIMISM”

    • livelaughloveliquor February 9, 2011 at 10:43 pm #

      Thanks Meleah! I need to figure out how to put you on my blog roll…..i LOVE your blog as well!

  6. thedailydish February 9, 2011 at 4:02 pm #

    I think I love you. From the moment your husband reassured you “It will be fine,” I knew this morning would only end badly. The boob grab alone — I am dying. As a fellow orphan sweater grower, I salute thee.

    • livelaughloveliquor February 9, 2011 at 10:44 pm #

      Imagine, we can stop world coldness with our magical hair growing powers…..if only, LOL. Sad state of womanhood we are in, girlfriend! Love you too.

  7. KathyG February 9, 2011 at 6:15 pm #

    Christine, as always, I can totally relate to this. It’s rare in deed for me to take a shower in the morning, for the very same reasons as you. And the boob grab…Yup, BTDT…Youch! Both my little ones are currently obsessed with my boobs, they just don’t get the “no grabbing” part. Thanks for the laughs!

    • livelaughloveliquor February 9, 2011 at 10:45 pm #

      I really dont know how you do it with twins! Double the boogie grab! How many times do I have to scream THEY ARE NOT HANDLES before a 2 year old understands? geesh!

  8. nat @book, line, and sinker February 9, 2011 at 10:52 pm #

    i honestly have no idea how people survive life as parents–i give you much credit! as for the haircut, my cousin and i played beauty shop when we were about 4, and our moms thought it was so hilarious that they ran us down to sears for some portraits of the damage. neither of us grew up to be beauticians…

    • livelaughloveliquor February 9, 2011 at 11:17 pm #

      Nat, some days it really feels like war. I think I walk around with permanent post traumatic stress disorder! That is so cool about your Mom and Aunt running you down to sears to preserve the joke for years to come! My family has an infamous “Two Guys” picture with bad hair cuts, however they were inflicted upon us by our very own mother. Thanks for reading!

  9. Myra February 10, 2011 at 12:27 pm #

    I loved this. My favorite was “the Strawberry Shortcake version of Mike Tyson.”

    • livelaughloveliquor February 10, 2011 at 4:50 pm #

      Thank you Myra. You know I am your stalker fan and love every single morsel you write. xoxoxo

  10. Reclaimed Sanity @ MyTwoTims February 10, 2011 at 8:01 pm #

    LMAO!! You poor thing. I don’t know what was the funniest, I mean the WORST part of it…the thought that your poor sweeties were hurt as you did the nudie dash through the house, the boob grab, the strawberry shortcake wrestle, the toothpaste, the slip and slide, or the topper of what was supposed to be a simple shower. The haircut. Shaking my head and feeling your pain…

    My nipples are forever the size of cow udders from all the tot tugging that took place as I similarly jumped my naked ass out of the shower in such moments as yours. The worst part? I’m already flat as a pancake, no boobs whatsoever. Just long handled nipples stretched out of shape for all of eternity…oh the horrors (I mean joys) of motherhood…

    • livelaughloveliquor February 10, 2011 at 8:17 pm #

      I know the feeling – deflated balloons mine are. or a pair of socks with rocks in them…sigh. BTW: LOVED your post about the wet butt…….!!! TOO FUNNY!

  11. Butterfingers for Breakfast February 12, 2011 at 6:52 am #

    Oh my goodness!! Is this real life or a sit com?! So funny! And glad to know I’m not alone. Not that the exact same thing has happened to me…but you know, showering is a luxury these days. Thanks for checking out my blog! I Love the name of yours!! Nice take on a good ol’ country saying. Glad I found ya 🙂

    • livelaughloveliquor February 12, 2011 at 11:00 am #

      Sadly, it is real life! I’m not sure if it is because I am older and too tired to discipline them properly (I had 2 after 40) or if it is because they just are genetically predisposed to mischief, but these two little moppets run me ragged!

      Sigh….someday we will enjoy hot water again, right? Until then, I guess I will be thankful for the extra hair on my legs to keep me warm LOL!

      • Butterfingers for Breakfast February 13, 2011 at 7:14 am #

        I sure hope we can enjoy hot showers one day in the not so distant future! I am sure I have some fighting in the future too…my boys are too young for that now. I just hope it’s not too bad 😉 Oh, and funny about the shaving the legs part.In my continual haste, I think I have forgotten that is part of the showering process…well occasionally anyway.

      • livelaughloveliquor February 13, 2011 at 8:20 am #

        Hot showers, hot meals, hot sex, the list goes on of things we live with out as parents……LOL

  12. Life in the Boomer Lane February 13, 2011 at 5:13 pm #

    Hilariously tragic (or is it tragically hilarious?). I’m decades past all this, but the scars remain.

  13. She's a Maineiac February 14, 2011 at 9:15 am #

    Thanks so very much for making me laugh so hard my daughter is asking me if I’m okay. Oh my GOD. You are hysterical! You are speaking my language. I think we are leading the same life. What really kills me is my name is Darla. I had a feeling I’d love this blog, what with the title of it alone, I was hooked…I am rushing off to subscribe now.

    • livelaughloveliquor February 14, 2011 at 9:39 am #

      I LOVED yours too! And yes, we are leading the same life – hiding in the bathroom – the only way I get to talk on the phone! So funny that your name is Darla. You dont find too many these days! And WHY is it that perfect sane, somewhat intelligent grown adults get hooked on Jersey Shore?? 🙂

  14. ladyladylike May 1, 2012 at 3:08 pm #

    I laughed my butt off throughout the whole story. It’s better than watching a movie– Hollywood has nothing on boob-handles!

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