I am sitting here thinking.
Trying to get lost in my thoughts.
Four little girls come thundering down the stairs to do a little dance of treat-begging before me, “Please? Can we have an Otter Pop? Please?”
“What? Sure. Take them outside. And open them outside! No mess in the house!”
“What if we want juice?”
“Yeah, sure . . . juice is fine. Just take it outside.”
We have had guests and sleepovers and neighborhood children over for every single minute of the last 48 hours. My head is tired of listening to all of this girl energy. I am tired of responding to their many needs. Otter Pops? Juice? A small price to pay for a few minutes of quiet.
They step into the pantry and fridge area, and then? All hell breaks loose. At first, I ignore them. How much trouble can they get into choosing frozen Otter Pops?
But the hell continues to break loose, and so I focus.
This is what I hear . . .
Oh my gosh oh my gosh you’re making a mess no I’m not it’s fine we’ll clean it up it will be alright but it’s a big mess someone go in there and tell my mom that everything is ok no I’m not going in there you go in there well I certainly can’t go in there I am covered in blue Otter Pop juice and she is not going to be happy to see me at all you go in there and explain that we have everything under control because I am pretty sure she heard us screaming grab the dog grab the dog grab the dog we have to clean him he can’t be blue she is going to notice that.
Fuck.
So I walk the few steps from here to there, and this is what I see . . .
A small blue dog.
Four girls, all dripping blue.
Maj is holding in her arms a huge bundle of unfrozen Otter Pops, from which blue and green liquid is leaking.
They could be standing on the tiled floor, but they are not. They are in the pantry area, which is carpeted. Where we keep the as-yet-unfrozen Otter Pops.
Duh.
I take a deep breath and try to speak calmly.
“Ok, first. Let’s everybody take a few steps this way onto the tiled floor.”
They step silently.
“Maj, throw all of those Otter Pops in the sink here.”
She does.
I pick up the ecstatic blue sticky dog and throw him in the adjacent bathroom’s shower. I wash and wipe down four little girls. I wipe the worst of the mess off of the stupid smaller dog.
And then the five of us turn and stare at the carpet.
Sigh.
I put my hands on my hips, “Could someone please explain why on earth you guys are ripping apart the Otter Pops that aren’t frozen? What would possess you to do that?”
Kallan answers for the group, “We asked if we could have juice. You said we could.”
“That’s what you meant? I thought you wanted a glass of orange juice.”
Kallan slides her eyes at her friends and her sister, “Why would we want orange juice? Orange juice is not a treat. We wanted melted Otter Pop juice.”
I am an idiot, apparently.
“Why did you rip them apart over the carpet?”
Kallan again, all reasonable, “We did not actually expect that there would be a tragedy.”
All four girls nod in sad agreement.
“Alright, ladies . . . here’s the deal. There is a huge amount of clean-up to do. There is Otter Pop juice all over the pantry shelves, the carpet, and the dog. It appears we had a misunderstanding. I know this was an accident. I should have been paying more attention. So here’s what I’m going to do. I am willing to clean all of this up for you if you will just go play outside until I am done. Deal?”
Kallan again, “Can we have an Otter Pop?”
All four girls look at me hopefully.
One of these days? I am going to strangle Kallan, “No, you may not. Not until I am done cleaning. Just go outside and play.”
Kallan protests, “But you said we could . . . ”
I interrupt, “Kallan, look at my face. Is this the face of a woman who is going to give you an Otter Pop at this moment?”
All four girls shake their heads sadly. No, it is not that kind of face.
They leave, and I stare at the liquid sticky mess. Some green, but mostly blue. The blue ones are the best . . . raspberry.
I start dabbing at the carpet with a damp cloth. The carpet is very blue.
Mark walks through, “Jesus! It looks like someone killed a Smurf in here! What the hell happened?”
I explain and conclude with, “Our girls? They have not turned out to be as smart as I had hoped.”
He bends to help me soak up the sugary blue, “Is there some sort of common sense class we could enroll them in? That’s all they need . . . a little common sense.”
He looks at me, “Why aren’t they cleaning this up themselves?”
“Because I needed them to go away. This,” I spread my arms, “was partly my fault, and I was all pissed off, and I just needed them to go away.”
He leaves and comes back with the carpet-cleaning spray.
He kneels beside me, “This is what they should have told us about in those parenting classes so long ago. They should have told us about shit like this.”
And we work together.
Parents.
Oh, I remember 4 kids and moments when they just. needed. to. go. away. And being partly responsible in the face of a complete lack of common sense. Oh, yes. I remember.
And I love Otter Pops.
And that Mark of yours? Keeper!
Mark is indeed a keeper.
And I hate when I am partly responsible.
I will always own that responsibility . . . but I hate it.
Wow. You are my hero. I would have lost my shit and everyone else’s shit.
Common sense classes are an excellent idea. Perhaps they have some online?
Yes, I am all heroic.
And also? Eating an Otter Pop.
but you *said*, Moooom.
lord do I remember saying stupid shit like that.
stop murdering smurfs. what will that teach your children?
Kallan?
She just does not back down.
A trait which will serve her well.
If I do not strangle her.
I can’t tell you how many times my husband & I have asked each other, “why doesn’t anyone teach you this shit in the parenting classes?” And I’m sure we’re in for many more of those wonderful moments.
Those moments?
They seem to keep on coming.
Sigh.
And also? Giggle.
This has happened to me. Only with glitter. And glue. With special education students. Sigh. I should probably never have kids.
We have had glitter and glue mishaps.
There are many mishaps in parenting.
It’s not so bad. Messy, but not so bad.
You need a good sense of humor.
That is vital.
Snort!
I can’t even imagine. I am laughing and squirting diet coke out of my nose and realizing it’s only funny because it didn’t happen to me. ok, i just started laughing again at the dead smurf guts.
Sometimes?
Mark has a way of making things funnier than they were just a moment before.
It is a very helpful quality.
“Our girls? They have not turned out to be as smart as I had hoped.” So much laughing out loud from this.
Common sense classes are a fantastic idea. I’d say 80% of the population could use a crash course.
Also, I consider blogs like these my parenting classes. Of course I’m sure I’ll have my own, why didn’t someone warn me? moments. Then you can laugh at my blog posts about them. Seems fair.
More than fair!
I eagerly await those posts!
That’s how I feel too! Someday we’ll be the ones cleaning the otter pop juice.
Yup. SO fun!
Well, my friend, the upside to the tragedy in blue is that you have a kick ass blog post!
I love hearing your stories of marital togetherness. Great inspiration.
Thank you.
Marriage is awesome.
Even when the children? Are a pain in the ass.
You clearly have the patience of a saint. Either that or lots of experience with this kind of mishap. Kudos to you, either way. I know I would have lost it. I apologize for laughing at you, but its one of those “i can laugh because it didnt happen to me” kind of thing,
Not a saint.
But LOTS of experience.
Which is why I should have seen this coming.
Juice . . . what was I thinking?
hahahahahah!!!! mark is hilarious with his outdated smurf reference. maybe like someone killed an avatar?
Snort!
Mark and I have similar outdated libraries of cultural references. So I am all good with the smurf.
LOL…oops…does the blue juice at least come out? my sister is 24 (almost 25 and still drinks unfrozen freezies AND spills on my once tan couch)…plus i have melted chocolate stains on my couch too…i feel sympathy for anyone dealing with similar things
Thank you for the sympathy!
And because we acted quickly? It came out.
Mostly.
Note to landlord: I am so kidding. The carpet? Is like new!
that’s good…glad to hear it…i’m still trying to figure out how to get the stains off my couch…at least you were lucky with that
Melted chocolate is tricky.
Way fun! But tricky.
Oh! I just had this moment yesterday with watermelon slices! This type of thing is exactly why I ripped out the carpet in the living room and painted the concrete floor. Now if I could only install a drain…
btw, great job keeping your cool.
Our landlords?
Would not be on board with the ripping and the painting and the drain installation.
And now I am thinking of that show Dexter . . . he makes a different kind of mess.
Our landlords would not appreciate that either.
I am guessing.
Oh, as soon as I heard your distractedness and children asking for things that stain I knew no good could come of this.
A blue dog.
Classic.
I had a blue heeler. But there was no actual color involved.
And no, no one ever tells you about the exploding OtterPops or the bed full of Cheerio dust, or the ice-cream wrappers in the tennis shoes.
People keep all those things a big bloody secret.
Whenever trouble goes down? Stupid smaller dog is always there eagerly awaiting the drop of sugary blue syrup.
Stupid blue dog.
And agreed . . . before I had kids? No one ever told me what I really needed to know.
Or maybe they did, and I just didn’t listen.
Nah.
I can see the dog being happy about it. Yay for easy access sugar!
These things are the reason I have not ONE stitch of carpet in my house. Not even in closets, not even in the pantry that doesn’t exist that I would kill for. Just say no to fucking carpet. We have tile in exactly 1800sf of our 1899sf home. I heart non-porous. Tim tried to buy Otter Pops for the kids one time and I just about killed him with my death glare. I should show him this since he looked at me as if to ask what the hell my problem with Otter Pops was.
Whenever you get some info on the common sense program, email me the details. I need.
I LOVE Otter Pops.
Frozen Otter Pops.
Stupid children.
And again . . . the landlords? Not on board with the ripping out of the carpet.