Before going to work, Beloved left me a little note:
It coaxed a small smile out of me, but I gotta tell ya, I'm close to tears. Is Summer Vacation over yet?!?
Day 2 of Summer Vacation started with another rude surprise. For several weeks, I have been disturbed by how much the kids' laundry reeked. It really was bothering my Momma sense. Turns out my Momma sense should be trusted a little more.
After a very bad night and waking up from an ugly dream, I walked into the kids' room. Boy was sitting on his bunk with headphones, Girl curled up in her nest of blankets. I asked him to take off his headphones and explained that we had some adventures planned for the day, but first he had to take a bath to wash off the arrows. He balked, and I explained that the blue was all smudged and it didn't look good anymore (instead of "Because I said so"). He agreed, and started to climb down.
"Hey Mom, there's a big mystery! The dirty clothes are all wet, but it didn't rain last night."
Crap. I just DID laundry, so there wasn't much, but it was enough to be an irritation. However, the kids both have water cups, and although they are lidded, if it fell from the bed, I could see it popping open on impact.
"And it's not water...there are no cups!"
Double crap. I start adding things up. Even without coffee or decent sleep, the math was pretty clear. I stepped around to look at the laundry pile. Splatters, as if coming from a height. The side of the bunk beds and the window sill also have drips running off the edges. I eye Boy warily. His amused grin was the answer, but I put my finger in a drip and sniffed.
Urine.
From the top of the bunk beds where a five year old Boy sleeps.
And I have been wondering about the laundry for *how long*???
Triple, double-dog CRAP!
*breathe* Did you pee off the bunk bed?
"No, I'm telling the truth," with the grin only slightly fading.
I didn't wait. I grabbed his arm and swatted him. Do NOT lie to me! You are going to clean all of this up! Start by taking the basket all the way to the basement. Come back upstairs with a bucket.
I had to repeat the directions a few times while I got the Murphy's Oil and some rags. He got an inch of water and a dollop of oil and was put to task washing the bed, the window, the wall, the floor. Beloved took down the curtain for him and (bless Him!) explained that if this ever happened again, Boy would be wearing diapers for a week like his baby sister. (I hadn't gotten past the outrage to be clever about a future punishment.)
I still plan to have Boy do the laundry...I will tell him what to do, but HE will do it, all the way through the cycles. Combining that with the diaper threat, and maybe this won't be an issue again...
It's 9:30 am. How much worse CAN it be?
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