pink pajama mama

Henry has become obsessed with our neighbor’s nasty-ass trash cans. Today he toddled over to their yard wearing only a diaper and my cheetah print platform flip-flops and dragged their giant can all the way back to our house. He tried to get it up the stairs on the porch and into the house!! He’s a bunky!! (That’ a bunny and a monkey combo for those of you who don’t know).”Henry! Put that trash can down!” I say.”No, Mama!” he shouts at me, looking over his shoulder as he drags it.”Henry! That’s so nasty!! It’s stinky and dirty!! Put it down!”"Nasy? Tinky?” he replies, staring at it as it tumbles down the porch stairs yet again. I’m not sure what goes through my head sometimes with the things I let them play with, but earlier today they got into my old belly dancing make-up case and wanted to open my loose powder pink glitter eyeshadow. Not pressed powder, loose. In my delusional state, I opened the little jar for Henry who brought it to me with a lip brush and promptly started painting his face. He looked cute, but things quickly took a turn for the worse when he poured it all over his body, all over the inside of the case, and then walked all over my cherry floors leaving a trail of pink glittery footprints I could not clean up, even after an hour on my hands and knees with wet towels. I guess it could be worse. At least they’re pink and glittery!

Sometimes I get brain glitches like this. “Oh how cute!” I think, “They’re throwing flour everywhere. What wonderful tactile play.” Somehow I don’t compute that when I try to clean up that flour it will turn to glue and hours of scrubbing later, it will still be everywhere. Or the time I said, “Sure! You can play in the UPS box of peanuts!”I never got those suckers cleaned up. Months later I was still finding little whisps of styrofoam popcorn around the house.

Today we went to see Kung Fu Panda and there were some striking similarities between me and the great panda, namely our love for cookies and kung fu abilities. I attended boot camp this morning and we went to a big field and did all sorts of things–sprints, lunges, jumping jacks-it was like football training for older women. And it was a blast. It’s early–6am!!– but it’s beautiful out that time of day and running through the dewy grass in the soft morning light with the birds chirping and my heart pounding and sweat pouring off me, I have to say it feels good.Yesterday we went swimming in a gorgeous pool at the dreamiest house. A picturesque little stable and horses running through fields of wildflowers. The pool had a white picket fence and archways dripping with pink flowers. Henry, Annabelle and I swam and threw the ball for a little poodle. That dog was like a circus dog, leaping in the pool from raft to raft. She will do anything to get that ball! Finally, a damper was put on things when the poodle pooped next to the pool and Annabelle vomited a little in the pool because she swallowed too much water. It was actually lovely because yesterday was one bad day. Hot as Hades and full of turmoil. Let’s see, I had a little altercation with the rude toothless man at he dump because he was trying to charge me to throw away a tiny bit of stuff and I didn’t have my wallet on me. Then an insane trip to the walk-in clinic to find out I have tendonitis in my wrist. But taking a curious two-year-old in there was like putting dynamite in a jelly jar. He was jumping on the scale and running everywhere and kicking and he insisted on bringing his giant swimming noodle in with us everywhere we went–the Dr.’s, the pharmacy, (where he knocked boxes and boxes of bandaids off the shelf), the sunglasses store where Henry and Annabelle tried on the most expensive sunglasses they could find along with scarves and hats and strutted in front of the mirror, laughing hysterically, they climbed on teh raised platform for trying on shoes and Henry started singing Hannah Montana at the top of his lungs. “Best! Of Vorld!” Whew! What a doozy!