they were missing us
her file was gathering dust
well, not anymore!
I don't know why I try to do things like sleep and clean myself. It only, inevitably, causes trouble.
After the pantyliner episode, you'd think I would have learned my lesson. But no. I thought I'd go out on a limb and take a shower this morning – well, not just a shower, but a real cleansing experience, involving shampoo and leg shaving.
So I go downstairs, bring the car seat up to my bathroom, wrap a sleeping Ike-a-saurus up in a blanket, and stick him in the seat. I put Sesame Street on the TV in my room, while the wee-er one sits on my bed eating dry cheerios.
So far so good.
I manage to get shampoo into my hair when I notice a suspicious arm waving around the partially opened bathroom door. Then I see a grinning face. At least I think she was grinning. I didn't have my glasses on. I rubbed the steaming glass of the shower door to get a better look, and there is the wee-er one, holding a package of birth control pills and smiling. A package of birth control pills I had not yet started taking. With three pills missing.
BANG goes the shower door, as I leap out at her, hollering, "DID YOU EAT THOSE?! DID YOU EAT THEM?!" She, of course, bolts. So I am soaking wet, butt naked, half covered in shampoo, freezing my ass off, and chasing her around the house. I finally wrench the package from her hand and pry open her mouth. Much to my dismay I discover finely chomped pill residue in her back teeth. Excellent.
By this time, she is, of course, hysterical. And who wouldn't be with a dripping wet, screaming, naked mad woman chasing after them? I am like a miniature, soaking Yeti, with a more powerful screech.
I calm her down, run back into the bathroom, slip on all the soap and water, almost end up in an unfortunate split position, twirl around and catch myself just before landing on the peacefully sleeping Ike-a-saurus. (What a great story that would have made – "Sorry about that, kid. I know you were born so early and were so strong and brave in the hospital. You would have led a completely normal life had your mother not slipped and flattened you like a pancake. However, you are making great money in this circus sideshow as Ike the Flounder Boy, so to each his own.)
I grab the phone.
Note to self: even with poison control stickers on every house phone, go on and program the damn number into your mobile phone. You may not have a regular phone handy. You may think you could never forget the poison control number, but you can. You may, in fact, fruitlessly call Delta airlines a bunch of times, because their number is very close to the poison control number.
I finally get the right number.
The lady all but laughs and says Micronor is fine. The wee-er one may end up with some nausea, but that's about it.
So there you go.
Two nearly demolished inner thigh muscles, about an inch of water on the bathroom floor (did I mention I left the shower on and the shower door open while all of this was happening?), and a probable heart attack later, all is fine.
And the wee-er one… well, she's actually been less moody today.
I guess we know what someone's getting in her stocking this year!