Ghosts of poo past and a crazy preschooler

For about a week or so, we have been smelling the very definite presence of poo upstairs. We couldn't find any discarded diapers. I was afraid something happened on the carpet somewhere and someone forgot to tell mommy.

The corner of Max's sheet came off and Paul crawled into his bunk to help him fix it. And he found it. The discarded diaper. Natalie had shoved her dirty diaper between Max's sheet and the plastic cover on his mattress. How that kid managed to sleep on it for at least a week is a mystery to me. Evidently being squished between the sheet and plastic covering sort of sealed the edges and kept the smell down. Once Paul opened it up, the smell burst free and contaminated the entire house.

It is not fun to be pregnant and live in a poopy smelling house. So I doubled washed sheets, blankets, and washed some surfaces with bleach water. I sprinkled baking soda on the carpets and vacuumed. After a couple of days of opened windows, it finally smells nicer here. At least I hope so and not that we have just gotten used to the smell.

I do have a vague memory of a naked Natty bringing me a clean diaper. The trash cans were full that day, and I just thought it had been thrown away.

Yesterday we had church at a nursing home. It was our first time there. I was asked to play the "piano", which is funny, because they didn't have a piano. They had an organ. I have never played an organ. It had two tiny off level keyboards and 4 million buttons, yet I was holding my own. Natalie was in the stroller beside me. I thought she was buckled, but she was not. She stood up and lunged at the organ, the palm of her hand hitting at least half a dozen switches, which cut off the sound right in the middle of the first verse of "Love Lifted Me".

I was desperately pushing switches back and forth, getting sound but nothing complimentary to "Love Lifted Me" all the while pushing Natalie back down and keeping her from hitting more buttons. Something was about to lift her little bum, and it wasn't love! Paul (who was song leading), turned around and grabbed Natalie and held her for the rest of the song.

Somewhere near the end of the last verse, I found a switch that at least gave it an organish sound, and I finished with a teeny tiny bit of composure. Thankfully, it was the last song.

That afternoon, Paul took Alexandra and Max to an air show at the air force base here. I stayed home with the two little ones, because Anastasia has an absolute fear of loud noises. And because it's an air show. Big woo.

I sat down at the computer upstairs to print out chore charts and worksheets for the week, like I usually do on a weekend. Natalie and Anastasia were watching Baby Einstein downstairs, coming up every five minutes to talk or ask a question. I gave permission for them to have one package of fruit snacks each.

Somehow, after me saying "one each", Anastasia went crazy during the 12 seconds it takes to walk downstairs to the pantry. In about 20 minutes, she and Natalie managed to eat three packages each, plus two little cherry pies, plus two yogurt cups, plus one new box of Goldfish crackers.

The sad part is that not all of that food was eaten. Take for instance the yogurt. It was strewn across the floor and up the table leg in such a way that I'm still puzzled as to how it was accomplished. And cute little fishy crackers were swimming in the peach muck.

Half of the box of fishy crackers was smooshed into a gazillion pieces and spread all over the couch. The other half of the box was on, around, and under the table. Every toy in every toy bin was on the floor. Every blanket was out of the blanket basket. And four sippy cups had been relieved of their contents either on the table, or on the counters.

They did all of this while coming up to talk to me every few minutes. This astonishes me! That they could break away from their destructive acts to come up and sweet talk me, and then go right back down and continue their tornado impersonations. What was going through their little heads? "I think mommy is bored and would love to do extra cleaning today"?????

I'll end this post with a quote from Max. I was giving him a haircut Saturday night and he forlornly said, "Mommy, I wish I had a hole in the back of my hair like daddy." (Daddy has a bald spot)