Looking Back and Laughing Part 979: Twin Bath/The Bathroom Formerly Known as Clean Edition

Last night I left work early because of a tornado warning (I know! What is it with New Jersey lately?). Most nights I don't make it home in time to bathe the twins which means...they don't get bathed as often as one might hope.

But last night I had an extra hour. And since Harry's favorite pastime is to dig in the dirty (we don't call him Dirty Harry for nothing) I figured, carpe diem. Bath time.

Did I mention our house cleaners (a once in a blue moon occurrence) came yesterday? Believe me, this detail will be important in a few sentences.

We have a running joke that whenever the house cleaners do come, that same day, inevitably one of the children will spill something, usually something quite voluminous and sticky: orange juice and chocolate milk are a few examples of liquids spilled on House Cleaners Days.

But on to happier things. A soothing bath before bedtime. There was Harry, splashing around in the warm bubbles, a Percy train in one hand, mini Buzz Lightyear in the other. There was Lucy, gleefully announcing she was "Going to lie down Mommy!" They are finally enjoying the water and learning they need to sit (there was a good month there where neither one would do anything but just stand there which produced...very clean feet and ankles).

Then it was time to get out of the bath, which, with twins is another way of saying All Hell Breaks Lose.

Getting two toddlers dried off at the same time, or at least dry enough so that they don't slip and fall on the bathroom tile or hardwoods in the hallway, well let's just say it's even more difficult than it sounds. I corralled Harry into the twins' room, trusting that Lucy would be ok in the bathroom by herself (I have a clear shot of it from the twins' room and the bathwater was almost gone). That's when Lucy announced she wanted to wash her hands. Fine. I wrestled Harry down to get a diaper on him, because, nothing says pee all over the floor like getting out of a warm bath (I know this from experience).

"Mommy! I'm washing my hands!" Lucy called from her perch on the step stool. It was right as she was attempting to help herself with the foaming hand wash that the flood works opened up. Pee. Everywhere. All over the step stool. All over the floor in front of the sink. All over Lucy.

"Mommy! I pee pee!" Lucy exclaimed. (Don't even get me started on this one. Any child who can announce "Mommy, change my die-py (diaper), I stinky" should be potty trained. But that's another post.)

I groaned inwardly (and maybe a little outwardly). No orange juice or chocolate milk on the kitchen floor tonight. Our newly cleaned bathroom floor would not be so lucky.

I jumped to my feet, told Harry to stay where he was (Yeah Right) and lunged for Lucy, quickly dunking her in what remained of the bath water. Grabbing a towel, I spun around and there was Harry, running toward me. Before I could scream No Harry! he landed on his bottom, feet up in there, marinating in a little puddle of Lucy pee.

Seriously? Is this happening? Do I just live full-time in a ridiculous, screwball comedy?

Yes, pretty much.

I will look back and laugh. I will look back and laugh. I revisited my near-daily mantra that I try to remember when I am about to feel supremely overwhelmed (and possibly, just a tad, aggravated).



I remember when toddler and preschooler Leo delighted in emptying dressers full of clothes or playroom buckets full of toys. I thought that was chaos.

Not. Even. Close.*

*Notice how calm and mild mannered they appear in these pictures. Don't believe it. Not for a second.