My Fresh Hell
Life in Scribbletown.

Red's Happy


Here at FreshHell Headquarters, a pretty decent weekend was had by all. Red got things off to a bang, so to speak, by once again depositing a big poo in the tub during bathtime on Friday night. In case you’ve lost count, this is the THIRD time she has done this in the past couple months. And I have to admit I’m getting really really really tired of scooping poo out of a warm bath in which dozens of (now contaminated) tub toys are floating. When I lifted Red out of the tub, her favorite toy – a small plastic, badly painted tiger – had floated over to inspect the poo. You know how animals like to mark their territory? Well, Red had marked off the entire tub and all the inhabitants: foam letters and numbers, cups of various sizes and shapes, squirty animals, and the tiger. The tiger sniffed…and floated away.

I am shaking my head here. Words cannot quite capture my delight at having to wash my children in the ridiculous jetted tub in my bathroom. While the other tub detoxifies in bleach water.

Good times.

I had really hoped by now that Red would be well along in the potty training arena. Apparently, she’s only interested in sitting on the “ba ba” a couple hundred times a day (really, just an excuse to get naked) and depositing….nothing. Just sittin’ and hangin’ out in the bathroom! La, la, la!


But, she is making progress in other ways. She’s talking more and in complete sentences. She’s beginning to understand and express emotions – her own and others’. She is much better at telling us what she wants. But not so often that the tantrums have ceased. Oh no! That would be asking far too much.

We suddenly have a bedtime routine that involves more than me humming my medley in the dark and walking her around in my arms. Now, there are three books, her cup of water, a stuffed monkey or horse to hold, a cloth diaper on my shoulder for her to rest her head on ( and then sleep with), the humming, the good night kiss, the placing in the crib. And, with any luck, no crying fit, no desperate need for mommy, no please don’t go! Don’t leave me here alone in the dark!

I have a feeling my bed’s going to be crowded when Red finally moves out of her crib.

So, on Saturday Dusty awoke with pink eye that Red had gotten the week before. Drops were administered and we drove down the road to the neighborhood tree farm for a Christmas tree. Dusty picked out the tree – one with just the right amount of triangleness, fluffy in all the right places, no big bare spots, no crooked trunk – we sawed it down, I drug it to the front while Red tried to jump on the tip of it, Earnesto – the hired hand - placed the tree in the needle shaking machine, we all laughed at the vibrating tree, I paid, they bagged it and tied it to the roof of the car. Five minutes later, we were home.

And, as expected, Red has removed almost all the ornaments from the bottom third of the tree and destroyed two of them. Good thing there’s no shortage of ornaments in the world because I’m probably going to have to buy some new ones for next year.

Sunday, we dropped Red off at Grandma’s house and took Dusty to her first Nutcracker Suite production. We had front row balcony seats and, apart from the railing in front of our faces, had a great view of both the stage and the orchestra. I always like watching the orchestra in action – all the violinists’ hands moving uuuppp and dddoooowwwn and shimmy, shimmy, shimmy all in concert (ha).

When the conductor came out, my husband bent down to Dusty and whispered in her ear, “Leopold!” – like in the Bugs Bunny cartoon. Cul-cha!

Dusty was captivated. It was a magical experience for her and she immediately exclaimed that she wanted to be in it. Which is unfortunate because I don’t think I can swing that many years of ballet lessons. So, she’ll just have to act out her favorite scenes with her Barbies. Her favorite ballerina was the butterfly/sugar plum fairy queen who appeared from the wings (ha) of the stage on wires. She “flew” around the dancing fairies and touched down on the tips of her toe shoes all the while holding up the sticks that attached to her wings that fluttered behind her as she danced.

Once home, both kids were in good spirits. At one point, Dusty was in the family room making a rocket ship out of legos and counting down to “blast off,” “Ten! Nine! Eight!”

Red shouted, “Five-six-seven!”

What? Did you just say five-six-seven? Red grinned at her cleverness. She’s growing up. On Saturday, she officially turned two and a half. No longer a toddler, she’s now a real preschooler. A real kid. Just like Pinocchio.

This morning, on our way to town, she said – apropos to nothing – “Me happy!”

Me, too, Red. Me, too.


9:53 a.m. ::
prev :: next