This past weekend was crazy. Saturday was spent in Buffalo with Bearded Man, for his 40th Birthday. I had bought tickets to see Jeff Foxworthy and Larry the Cable Guy. For the occasion, I also had to reserve my daughter for babysitting purposes. Kaila is generally scheduled around the neighborhood to babysit for various people anymore. As she pointed out, they pay better. As I pointed out, room and board isn't cheap.
We had a good time in Buffalo, wrapped up with dinner right after the show. I called home after dinner to check in, and the conversation went as such:
"Hi Kaila! Just calling to check in."
"Oh, hi Mom. Everything is fine and stuff."
"Okay. We just finished dinner."
"Oh. Are you coming home NOW?"
"Why do you sound as if that's a bad thing?"
"Because I am going to have to kick all the druggies out early now."
"Oh. And how are the kids?"
"Lexi was a little nuts, but, she settled down after five shots of tequila."
"Grand."
"We need to wrap this up soon Mom. My dealer is at the door."
"Alrighty then."
"Oh, and, there was another window incident...."
"WHAT??? What do you MEAN, there was another window incident???!!!!"
"Forget the fact that I have just told you that there is a drug dealer at the front door, Lexi is passed out with tequila, and that I have to kick all the druggies out. It's the possibility of a broken window that you freak out at. You have great priorities, Mom. The windows are all FINE. The kids are fine, and the boys are asleep already."
"Oh. Well. Make sure you have respectable non hoochie clothing on when I get home then."
"Alright. Fine. I will change back into decent clothes. I was cold anyway."
And that, my friends, is my daughter in a nutshell. I love that kid. Who, by the way is one of the most decent respectable non druggie kids on the planet, for anyone who did not catch the total sarcasm of the conversation....
Sunday morning dawned with absolutely no desire from anybody to get out of bed. However, being semi responsible Sunday School teachers, we have to go to church. Bearded Man was off to Baseball Camp, or some such thing, with Joe, and I hauled the rest of the crew off to church.
Sunday's lesson was something along the lines of empathy and compassion, with heaven and hell somehow mixed in. Not going to lie. I hate the entire curriculum, and we take it all with a grain of salt...
Anyhow, one of the suggested activities was to try and demonstrate empathy and compassion. It was long the lines of "Your friend at school is wearing a new shirt. Someone accidently spills ketchup on it at lunch. I think she feels:" and, "I feel:"
The kids all looked at me, blankly.
"Okay, lets put it in perspective. You, (I say, pointing at one girl) are wearing a new sweater to school. You LOVE this sweater. You have nagged your poor mother incessantly, until she finally broke down and bought you the most perfect sweater in the whole world, because you absolutely could not even think about life without it. And she", I say, pointing at the one kid I never should have pointed at, because she argues about absolutely every. single. thing. ever. "spills ketchup on it. Okay, ketchup spiller. How do you think the ketchup spillee feels?"
"Guilty. She should have known better than to be in my way."
"Seriously. Have you learned NOTHING today? Alright, ketchup kid, how do you feel? About your new sweater, as well as the person who spilled it?"
"Honestly, this happens almost every single day!" she wailed "I have so many nice clothes, and almost every day, I spill ketchup or cheese on my shirts and sweaters! The struggle!" and, her head thunks on the table in despair.
"Okay, now, when you have collected yourself, how do you feel about the ketchup spiller?"
"Scared. She scares me."
"She SHOULD be scared!" Announces the ketchup spiller "She should have known better than to be in my way! She DESERVED to have her sweater ruined! She needs to buy me a cookie at lunch every single day for a month!"
"Girls. In all reality, you would both be saying "Hey, I am so sorry, and, Oh that's okay, it isn't the end of the world" to each other, because, that is how we behave socially."
"No. I would NOT forgive her for ruining my sweater!"
"I would probably laugh at her, after I did it!"
"Okay. This isn't working. Let's trade places?"
"WHAT? If it was MY sweater, I would make her buy me a new one, and tell her I hate her!"
"Never mind. I have failed. I have completely failed as a Sunday School teacher and should probably be fired."
'Hey, it wasn't our idea to do the activities."
Anyhow, we all survived Sunday School. I am pretty sure I have about zero percent chance at a shot at heaven, and we all made it home in one piece. Where the painting fail happened.
About a month ago, I took the kids to the Home Depot, and told them to pick out a new paint color for the bathroom. We have precisely one very small bathroom for our family of 6. It is very small and very dark and very not adequate for our needs, but, it is what it is. Also, dark lighting is infinitely more flattering. Just saying.
The kids chose a very bright and happy blue. Sort of an aqua blue. In the spirit of bright and happy, I went out and bought bright and happy towels. Bright yellows and pinks and blues. It was going to be perfect. I thought the kids really nailed it. I even bought a new shower curtain in sort of a pale blue to teal blue ombre.
Yesterday, Bearded Man cloistered himself and the paint fumes into the small bathroom, and began painting.
The bright and happy blue is sort of a darker shade of Tiffany blue. Or, the blue one sees on classic Chevrolet cars from the 50's. It also is a shade darker than "bright and happy".
"Mom" Kaila says in concern, coming out of the bathroom, "The bathroom looks very very small."
"Kaila, it IS small."
This was driven home this morning, however. I got out of the shower, and felt as if I had stepped into a small blue Tiffany box. In the dark. I am the least claustrophobic person I know. However, I had to open the door as soon as modestly possible, because I couldn't breathe. Bearded Man re-hung the bathroom mirror, and, to my horrified amusement, I noted I was a lovely shade of vomit green. Alien green. Hospital green. Sickly green. My hair took on a completely new shade of awfulness.
"JASIN! I am GREEN!"
"I am NOT painting that bathroom EVER AGAIN."
This is slightly alarmingly problematic. Because, not only are we all green and claustrophobic in the bathroom now, but, I possibly have out of town guests coming to stay in the near future. I can only hope that the new lighter colored shower curtain and new lighting improves it, but....
Seriously. That is all I can bear to write today. The paint trauma is still pretty fresh.
