Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Norman Rockwell we are NOT

Friday, I took a much needed day off to partake in the annual tradition of the Nutcracker Market that is held downtown.  Every year...my mother, my grandmother and I go.  It has become my favorite way to kick off the Holiday Season every year.  It is always the same weekend in November and I get a lot of Christmas shopping done.  There are vendors that come from all over the place and you can find some really unique things, from food...to clothes...to home decor...to doll clothes...to flasks...

the list goes on and on.

and yes...

I did buy my brother-in-law a flask for Christmas this year.

I really, really wish we had been taking pictures every year.  However...this is my first year that I have had a phone that would take a good picture and we never thought to bring a camera before.

I fell in love, love, love with this little number for the girls.

Too bad it was $130.

The tulle used for the ruffled skirt was so soft...and the color was perfect.

I have an appreciation for activities were it is socially acceptable to have things like mimosas, champagne, bloody marys, and the like, before noon.

I don't usually find myself in those situations...

but this year, I decided to join right on in.

That was quite possibly the most spicy thing I have every ingested.  And if I ever decide to have another bloody mary in my lifetime...I will ask them to hold the tabasco, please.

You live and you learn these things.

Annslee decided to use the syrup on her plate for a craft experiment Sunday morning.  After throwing all of her syrup covered waffles on the floor...she used the left over pool on her plate to smear in her hair and all over her face and body.

I just kept hearing her say "tiiiiicky...tiiiiiicky...tiiiiicky" from the other side of the room.  I was knee deep in dog poop clean-up at the time.

When it finally dawned on me what she was saying...I busted on over there to see what she was talking about.  I knew it couldn't be good.

I found her sticking her hands to her hair and her face and laughing at the way they peeled away in stickiness.

I was none-too-thrilled with her as I cleaned up the floor first.

Then I carried her...faced out...to the tub.

I put her down to run the bath water and told her to stand still and not touch ANYTHING until I could peel her clothes off of her.

I turned around for 2 seconds to start the water and that's when the cat (that the kids let in the backdoor) must have snuck into the bathroom.  Because when I turned around...that kitty was in her arms...hugged tight to her body.

Now, I'm not kidding when I say that cat was "stuck" to her.

I had to pry the thing out of her sticky grip...causing the fur to come off onto her hands and body.

So...Annslee is now in the tub, and the cat is walking around the bathroom with it's hair gelled straight up with syrup.

I had no choice but to get Annslee bathed and out and the cat in.

I  could tell you what a cat covered in syrup in a bathtub is like...

but you can probably guess.

That's when I realized that I have no business owning pets.

I try so hard to be a good pet owner.  I love animals and I long to be all Cinderella-ish and have birds land on my fingers and chirp me sweet nothings about how lovely and  graceful and gentle I am.  I picture the dog, laying peacefully in front of the crackling fireplace, and the fat, fluffy cat sitting in the window...straight out of a Norman Rockwell picture.

But...instead...I have dogs jumping in, what was supposed to be, MY bubble bath...splashing water all over the place...drinking and puking up bubbles...and pooping on the floor because we are all so sick of his barking that we can't distinguish between barking to be irritating and barking to go out...

and cats (that aren't even mine) covered in syrup.

Our mornings look like a, literal three ring circus.

The kitty meows...incessantly...at the backdoor.

Then Annslee starts throwing a tantrum that will.not.stop because she wants the kitty.

So...in order to get some peace and quiet...I finally give in and let the kitty in.

That causes Trout to go bat-$*!% crazy, running around...barking...jumping all over the place...

which, in turn,  causes the cat to hiss and swat and scatter under a piece of furniture just out of reach.

Then Annslee starts crying again because the she can't hold the kitty.

So...then it's everyone crying, barking and hissing

and me slowly losing my patience and calculating who to yell "be quiet" at first.

This house is anything BUT Norman Rockwell, these days.

No comments: