concerned.

Millie dipped her hair in the toilet today. And it had not been flushed.

She tried to hide it. But I walked by and she was making strange motions with her hands over the toilet, as though conjuring some spell from the bowels of a cauldron.

Why? Why? Other than a vicious desire to get sick?

I want a shower.

So it was my fault. Because a few weeks ago, we had a dipping incident, and my solution was to toss her in the shower.

And she connected the two.

What a fun connection. Don't you think?

photo via pequeña esquimal

complaining.

So this is what Disneyland taught me....I can't find the motivation, or inspiration, to write a blog post that I like unless I'm complaining, angry, sad, depressed, or whatever else comes with groveling life.

Disneyland was not sad, or depressing, or groveling. I wasn't angry (okay, maybe once or twice) and walking around with Disney music piped into outside speakers? Who couldn't be happy hearing Give a Little Whistle as the background music to life. In fact, I'm thinking about installing personal speakers that will allow me background music where ever I go. Because that would rock.

The worst thing that happened was the weather. It was great. But not what I expected. Because Clin was in charge of checking the weather and I was in charge of reminding him. And neither got done. So I packed shorts and skirts for the girls. And they each only had 1 pair of pants and 1 long sleeve hoody. And that is what they got to wear the entire time we were there.


That was fun, because we then got to relive the smells and stains of day one throughout the entire week.

Remember the purple yo-gos you had on the plane? ME TOO!

Remember when that diaper became overly wet? HOW COULD WE FORGET?

And I would like to give a shout out to whoever is in charge of Disney bathrooms. You should get a pay raise. Or how about one of those AIG bonuses? Because you are doing your job. They were cleaner than clean. Seriously.

Ellis, you want to lick the toilet seat? Have at it! no worries here. Oh, look. Millie is throwing a tantrum on the stall floor. How adorable. Go ahead and roll around a few minutes more. Might as well take advantage while we are here.

And we did.

on the trail. Part 2.

I spent the morning looking for a diaper filled with poop. One moment it was here. And then I turned around and it was gone. It wasn't under any of the beds. Not in the bathrooms. Not in the diaper pail. I know because the garbage bag had not yet been replaced, and the pail remained empty.

It wasn't on any bathroom counters, or in the bathtubs. Not under the crib, or in the closets. I couldn't find it on the bookshelf, or in the plastic tub overflowing with animals.

I was about to give up and allow the scent to eventually lead the way, when I passed the kitchen and found it resting on top of the garbage can.

Ah, Ellis. Keeper of secrets. The sneaky pick pocket has learned where things belong.

photo via tinggay

finding more proof of my filth.

Today we ventured out of the house to one of my favorite places...Costco. Yes, that says a lot about how exciting my life actually is.

In the highpoint of the week the girls and I shared hotdogs and sodas. Two women and their children came and sat next to us. They spent quite a long time searching, and then lamenting the fact that they did not have a wet wipe to wipe down the table (our table).

Then they spent a few more minutes all cleaning their hands with hand sanitizer, again lamenting the fact that it would do no good for the kids as soon as they touched the table.

And there I was at the end of the table, with my children - eating off of the floor, practically licking the table as ketchup, hotdogs and buns were all moved from their wrappers to the table top, bench seats, and floor. In one impressive instance, Millie crouched under the table and insisted upon finishing the bun of her hotdog before coming out.

Until these ladies approached - hand sanitizer never even came into my consciousness. Now what does that say about me?