I am so not joking.

Thursday night we went to a local farmer’s market and then to dinner.  On the five minute drive home that night, Sugar fell asleep– not having peed in several hours and with cherry stains on her cream colored dress. I was bummed I wouldn’t be able to use my mad stain removal skills until morning, but glad we had one less child to try and force to sleep that night.

Of course, the combination of Sugar not having peed recently, and an ill placed, holey matress protector assured that she would pee the bed in the night. At 5:45 she woke up from the accident and after following the protocol, I tossed her clothes in the sink, unrinsed and we went back to bed.

At around 9 am I figured it was time to get at the stain removal.

Only there were no more stains.

The pee bleached them away. 

Isn’t that the weirdest thing ever?  And slightly gross?  Anyone ever have a similar experience? 

Don’t think that because your children are painting and you are not painting, that you don’t need to wear painting clothes.  ‘Cause ya do.

The more green posts I post, the more times I get entered into the green giveaways over at SMB.

So, tonight I made a run to the Tarjay and bought this:

I love it because:

A.) It’s Method
B.) There is no scent (This is really good for Charming because we usually spray down the table before we eat and he can’t really handle the smell of lavendar mixed with his quinoa and chicken.)

Yay, Earth Day!

Spider and I were thinking of Earth Day and today, we were pretty heroic. Let me explain.

So I was happily checking email this afternoon under the impression that my sweet one and half year old was in the toy room with her older siblings. Not totally convinced of this, I thought that I should, perhaps, check to be sure. Not there. Shoot. I go downstairs.

I followed my nose to find the babe, asleep, on my nice sofa, in a pool of …. dunh, dunh, dunh… poo!!!!

Crum! It leaked out of her diaper, I thought. Oh wait…

She wasn’t wearing a diaper! I had forgotten that she had taken it off earlier, and in my getting lunch ready, taking care of other things, people, messes mayhem, I totally neglected to put a fresh one on her.

And so here she was, a sleeping angel, resting in her own poos, while I tried to decide what to do. (Yes, I felt like a bad mom, sheesh.) Normally, I would just give her a bath, but she was sleeping, so I laid her on a towel on the floor and began to sponge bathe her off with a washcloth. She slept through all of it, peacefully unaffected, until I remov*d her dress and she began to scream and be awake and cranky for the rest of the day…

Good thing I hadn’t already dealt with her clinging/vomiting/diarrheaing all of Tuesday and Wednesday this week.

Yeah.

Well, one less poopy diaper sitting in a landfill for a million years, right?

Just doing our part to save the earth. All congratulations and bravos can be left in the comments section.

…when you don’t put your apples away fast enough.

I would imagine it happened this way, a small child (take your pick, we got plenty around here) decides he wants an apple.  He wanders off takes a bite, and sets the apple down.  Minutes later he thinks, "crud, where’d my apple go?"  and instead of looking for it, returns to the origin of the first apple and takes another.  The process is then repeated.  By multiple children.

Thus you have the lovely picture seen above.  This was all the apples that I found in various places all about the house.

After taking the photo, I found one more.

And for you guessers– BABY ELEPHANT!  Hurrah! 

Oh, you mean besides lipstick stains and ground in deoderant?

Nail polish.

‘Nuff said. 

Dear Method People,

Thank you for the lovely party with the other Seattle Mom Bloggers.  It was great.  

Thank you also for the new t-shirt.  I love it.  However:

I could not find a clean room in my house to photograph myself in wearing said shirt.  I am a mother.  The example above is how I clean.   Therefore the phrase "Cleans Like a Mother" though clever and funny, may not be the best ad choice as it does not necessarily indicate a high level of cleanliness. 

Just thought you should know. 

They are the mark of distinction in someone’s bathroom. They are a touch of class. They are a total handwashing experience for all the senses. They are:

The handsoap dispensers from Bath and Body Works. 

I just like them. They’re pretty, they smell good, they’re… fancy. I have always liked them, and felt so special when I used them at someone elses house, but I have never bought them.  I always felt they were too expensive for me. Too out of my league. Too at the mall.  

But, I got a B & BW gift card for Christmas in the amount of $10, and there was really only one thing I knew I could buy.

For two reasons, I had to buy the handsoaps. The first being that, because of the business I am in, as a matter of principle, I choose not to purchase the same product from a competitor that I could buy through my own business. For example, we sell eyeshadow, so I won’t buy one from M.A.C. no matter how cute the color, but since Mary Kay doesn’t make shampoo, I go with Biolage. Make sense? I can get body wash and lotion and such from myself, so I won’t buy it from Bath and Body Works.  Why?  B & BW is not tax-deductible and really  how would it be if some random stranger said, “Ooh, you smell nice, what is that?” and I said, “Oh, it’s from Bath & Body Works, it’s such and such, but I sell Mary Kay and we have lots of nice smells, so do you want to try one of them?” If such an event ever were to happen it would be so much better to be able to say, “Oh yes, it’s Bella Belara. I sell it, would you like a catalog?”

It’s a business thing.

My obvious second reason for buying the handsoaps, is my covetousness for them. So when I was at the mall this last week, I decided to stop in at the Bath and Body Works.

The soap was on sale- 3 for $10. Perfect.

Because I had decided to do this stop on the way out, upon entering the store, Sugar had a meltdown. Assuming (falsely) that I could get one for a buck, I bribed her with the promise of a chapstick. She calmed down and I found my soaps.  Engineer was thrilled and he wanted to carry one, but Sugar was disappointed at the price of chapstick. My wallet forced to instead buy a $3 body wash that smells like Cherry Pie. (’Good for kids,’ said the lady though when I got home discovered that the label says “for adult external use only.”) But at least I got my soap.

I have since discovered that the soaps are not only a hit with moms, but are also well loved by 4-year old boys. My son who hates washing his hands, foamed up at least five times the day we brought the soaps home. He put a soap in every bathroom and announced it to us proudly.  I don’t know if he loves it because of the foaming action or the smell or because he grew attached as he mothered it while lovingly carrying it to the car.  I don’t care the reason, I am just pleased with his new and bizarre interest in hygiene.

Sugar forgot about the chapstick and the bodywash so today, I smell like Cherry Pie. Good for deceptively impressing my more domestic friends, but not very good for selling lotion.