I spent most of yesterday morning cleaning the kids rooms. Wait. Maybe I should say disinfecting. After a semester in which I spent much of my time at EIU, their rooms had gotten a bit...sticky. Maybe I should rephrase that to a WHOLE LOT sticky.
I went up the stairs armed with 2 garbage bags, disinfectant and a hard-working attitude. Violet was with me to serve as comic relief. She made the best shocked and horrified expressions for me every time I found some new kind of gross in the kids rooms. Her comedic timing is impeccable. If you can believe it she managed to not make a mess while I was cleaning, I think she was horrified.
Anyway, Wyatt's room normally looks relatively clean for an 8 year old boy. Maisy's room on the other hand....Maisy's room looks like a craft shop threw up. She's an artist, so she has an artist's room. I like to just shut her door and pretend it doesn't exist...most of the time, but after a semester of doing that I was beginning to worry that there might be things living in there.....aside from her....
So, I went into Wyatt's room ready to be in there for a few minutes. I decided to rearrange, because he's very Martha Stewarty and loves having his room changed around, and as soon as I moved his bed I shrieked. I turned to Violet and she made a big O face and put her hands on her cheeks. We both stood there. Stunned. Violet even said, "Troublin. Big time Troublin." Damn straight. Huge Big time Troublin.
Underneath Wyatt's bed was the following: 3 of my coffee cups FULL of juice (and I have been blaming Chris for the missing coffee cups for like a month...), at least 5 packages of skittles...opened, halfway eaten, spit out onto the floor, clean underwear (thank God) at least 8 pairs because he refuses to wear it (sooooooo weird), two peanut sandwiches, 1 cheese quesadilla...half eaten, legos...legos...and more legos...and the Pièce de résistance....my trumpet, not in it's case...missing two key pads, and colored red.
I walked out of the room. I think I might have started to cry. Violet, sensing my distraught state of mind, came up to me and patted me on the back. " 'skay mama. 'skay" Ok? Seriously. Seriously this isn't ok. Ugh.
So, I cleaned up all that mess and wandered into Maisy's room. After cleaning up the nightmare in Wyatt's room, Maisy's was a breeze. Fabric everywhere? No problem!
Violet and I came downstairs, a little shaken and changed from our experience...and Violet immediately ran into the kitchen, grabbed my coffee cup (still full of coffee) from the counter and ran to her bedroom....where she instantly placed it under her bed.
Oh Good.
I went up the stairs armed with 2 garbage bags, disinfectant and a hard-working attitude. Violet was with me to serve as comic relief. She made the best shocked and horrified expressions for me every time I found some new kind of gross in the kids rooms. Her comedic timing is impeccable. If you can believe it she managed to not make a mess while I was cleaning, I think she was horrified.
Anyway, Wyatt's room normally looks relatively clean for an 8 year old boy. Maisy's room on the other hand....Maisy's room looks like a craft shop threw up. She's an artist, so she has an artist's room. I like to just shut her door and pretend it doesn't exist...most of the time, but after a semester of doing that I was beginning to worry that there might be things living in there.....aside from her....
So, I went into Wyatt's room ready to be in there for a few minutes. I decided to rearrange, because he's very Martha Stewarty and loves having his room changed around, and as soon as I moved his bed I shrieked. I turned to Violet and she made a big O face and put her hands on her cheeks. We both stood there. Stunned. Violet even said, "Troublin. Big time Troublin." Damn straight. Huge Big time Troublin.
Underneath Wyatt's bed was the following: 3 of my coffee cups FULL of juice (and I have been blaming Chris for the missing coffee cups for like a month...), at least 5 packages of skittles...opened, halfway eaten, spit out onto the floor, clean underwear (thank God) at least 8 pairs because he refuses to wear it (sooooooo weird), two peanut sandwiches, 1 cheese quesadilla...half eaten, legos...legos...and more legos...and the Pièce de résistance....my trumpet, not in it's case...missing two key pads, and colored red.
I walked out of the room. I think I might have started to cry. Violet, sensing my distraught state of mind, came up to me and patted me on the back. " 'skay mama. 'skay" Ok? Seriously. Seriously this isn't ok. Ugh.
So, I cleaned up all that mess and wandered into Maisy's room. After cleaning up the nightmare in Wyatt's room, Maisy's was a breeze. Fabric everywhere? No problem!
Violet and I came downstairs, a little shaken and changed from our experience...and Violet immediately ran into the kitchen, grabbed my coffee cup (still full of coffee) from the counter and ran to her bedroom....where she instantly placed it under her bed.
Oh Good.
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