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Chores with a toddler

November 15, 2010November 15, 2010 by Melissa Price-Mitchell

When they want to be, two year-olds are pretty hilarious.

Last week, I went in to get Flora up for the day. I was just out of the shower so I went in while doing up my brassiere.

Flora looks at me and says the following:

“Oh mummy, you’re wearing your pretty brassiere.” (yes, she says brassiere – just like mummy)

I wasn’t expecting that phrase to come out of her mouth, but I rolled with the punches.

“Yup, I’m wearing my pretty brassiere.”

“Mummy, I like your pretty brassiere.”

“Oh, I do too.”

Try having that conversation with a straight face. I couldn’t do it. I laughed a lot about it.

That evening, I decided it was time to wash my brassieres. I was running the sink and pouring the soap in when Flora came in and asked “Mummy, what are you doing?”

“I’m washing my brassieres.” Then an idea hit me. “Would you like to help?”

“Yes mummy!” and she went to grab her stool so she could reach the sink.

I put the brassieres in the sink one at a time and Flora splashed them around the sink. She was a little upset when I would switch one for the next – “Mummy, I want to wash your pretty brassiere!”

“But they’re *all* beautiful. Look at the lace and flowers on this one.”

“Yeah” And washing continued.

Once my brassieres were thoroughly soaked and washed (thank heaven for no-rinse lingerie soap!), I dried them off and hung them on the railing like I always do.

And I was glad that I found a chore that Flora liked to help with. At least for as long as splashing in the sink is great fun.

Stinky stories for you to enjoy

October 23, 2010October 23, 2010 by Melissa Price-Mitchell

The title of this post sounds like a fart joke waiting to happen. As much as I love a good fart joke (and I do – I live in a “most farts are funny” house), that is not the story I want to tell today.

The first stinky story began on Wednesday night when I picked Flora up from daycare. Sean normally picks her up on his drive home from work, but he had to work late so it was on me to go get her. When I pick up Flora, I usually go by bus because we only have one vehicle and Sean and I work in opposite ends of town. Flora gets to have an adventure on a not-too-busy bus (a 5-10 minute ride) and we have walk or (if it’s a planned pickup) stroller ride home. Takes a little longer, but not a big deal since we’re coming home for the evening, not starting the day.

Pickup went as normal. I had a nice chat with my childcare provider and Flora and I headed off to the bus stop. She hadn’t finished one of her sippy cups of milk so I put it in my purse. We had a uneventful bus ride (Flora talked all the way home about the bus) and a meandering walk home, as toddlers like to do.

About halfway through our trip, I thought my leg was getting wet. Stink lines weren’t waving around Flora so I opted not to worry about it. Once we got into the house, I discovered that it wasn’t an off-kilter diaper that got me wet. It was the sippy cup in my purse. It had leaked and dripped down to the bottom corner and was hitting my leg. I quickly emptied my purse and gave the lining a quick rinse and left it dripping in the kitchen sink. Later that evening, I took my purse upstairs and sprayed the lining with vinegar and sprinkled baking soda on it and left it out to dry overnight. I worried that the milk had gotten in between the lining and the purse itself which would be difficult to clean and would cause my purse to get funky in a non-fashionable way.

The next morning I checked and the purse seemed dry and funk-free enough to try wearing it again. I put my stuff back in it and treated everything as normal.

Fast forward to Friday morning.

All three of us get into the car to start the day (Sean drops me off near the subway). Before we get going, I smell a stink.

“Did Flora soil herself?” I ask Sean.

“I don’t know. Flora did you poop?” said Sean.

“No Daddy”, replied Flora. I wasn’t so sure I trusted her answer as she sometimes fudges the truth when she fudges her Huggies.

Again, I opted not to worry about it and we carried on with our day.

Once I was at work, Sean called me to tell me that he checked the car and couldn’t figure out the source of the stink. He even checked the engine thinking an animal had shit in it. He had also wondered in the car if someone had put poop in our gas tank. (That was a little too WTF for me but I suppose stranger things have happened.)

A little later, Sean and I have the following email exchange:

From: Sean
Sent: October 22, 2010 10:02 AM
To: Melissa
Subject: Mystery Solved

I stepped in Dog shit and it was copious.. Tried to get most of it off in the bathroom..fuckin dog

From: Melissa
Sent: October 22, 2010 10:06 AM
To: Sean
Subject: RE: Mystery Solved

I’m sorry, but I did laugh at this email. Hope you got it off. Did it hit your pants?

Much more sensible than someone putting poop in our gas tank. 😛

Now we know why we need to pick it up right away. (ed. note: the night before, Sean had taken the dog out, but hadn’t cleaned up the mess, saying he’d catch it tomorrow. He certainly did!)

From: Sean
Sent: October 22, 2010 10:07 AM
To: Melissa
Subject: RE: Mystery Solved

I still smell the poop..I might have to buy new shoes at lunch

From: Melissa
Sent: October 22, 2010 10:09 AM
To: Sean
Subject: RE: Mystery Solved

You’ll probably keep smelling it long after the shoes are gone. Does anyone else notice it?

From: Sean
Sent: October 22, 2010 10:10 AM
To: Melissa
Subject: RE: Mystery Solved

I am not sure..Thinking about it I will now have to clean the brake and gas pedals and possibly replace the floor mat in the car

From: Melissa
Sent: Fri 22/10/2010 10:13 AM
To: Sean
Subject: RE: Mystery Solved

You’ll want to wear the old shoes when driving home if the pedals are poopy. Then you don’t soil the new shoes.

I ended up with a severe case of the giggles as the emails went back and forth. I was relieved to have the mystery solved though.

However, due to all the talk about it, I started noticing more stink myself. I worried that the poop had somehow jumped from Sean’s shoes to mine and I checked my soles for it. Nothing there. I chalked it up to psychosomatic phantom smells and left it alone.

Come lunch time, I discovered that there were no phantom smells. That stink was real.

I had opened my drawer to get my purse so I could go and get my lunch. The stink that came out of there was wild. Turns out the milk from Wednesday had stuck and around and funked up my purse just as I had feared. So I had probably brought my own stink into the car as well. I couldn’t blame it all on Sean (or the dog for that matter).

My coworkers got a big laugh when I told them the short version of this story. They tell me that they hadn’t noticed the stink so either they’re too nice or my desk drawer had contained it perfectly to my cubicle.

I’ve been purse hunting ever since. This was one time I did not want to go on a purse bender because I actually really liked this purse (when it’s funk-free) and I wanted to be sure I’d find something similar in style (and price). I must be getting low on patience because I decided to try out a cute little bag I saw on Etsy. Buying online makes me nervous because you can’t feel it out to make sure it’s the one for you. I’m choosing to be optimistic.

I’m also choosing to store Flora sippy cups in her bag from now on.

Sean chose to pick up new shoes, which he really needed anyway.

Nothing like a little stink to keep things moving forward.

Daddy Daughter Day

October 3, 2010October 3, 2010 by Melissa Price-Mitchell

It’s football season again which means that Sean is very focused during the games. Is that a nice way of saying he’s pretty much glued to the couch?

I on the other hand am of the “football is the game with the pointy ball” variety. I don’t get it and don’t try and explain it to me. People have tried and I glaze over and zone out every time.

Sean is also playing fantasy football online and in a point spread pool with some people I work with. (No, I’m not playing vicariously, but I do ask how everyone is doing. Concerned wife and all.)

So far, it’s been a rough season for Team Mitchell. He cheers for a perennial underdog (the Bills) and his picks have not done well this year at all.

He’s asked me my opinion a few times which makes for amusing conversations. My picks are based on any of the following criteria:

which team have I heard more about lately
which city I like better in general
what colour their uniform is
is there a player I’ve heard of playing for them?
Was there an article about that team in the Sports Illustrated that Sean left in the bathroom?
is the sun shining? What phase is the moon in?
You get the picture

Fortunately, he doesn’t take my picks too seriously, due to the lack of strategy and all.

I knew his picks were going really badly when he started talking about picking the opposite of whatever he wanted to pick. Then he started asking Flora who to pick. Flora, being two, doesn’t really get football. She likes throwing a football, and knows that Daddy likes football and watches a lot of it on TV, but that’s about it.

This morning when we were all snuggling in bed, Sean asked Flora who he should pick. Here is a paraphrased version of the conversation (paraphrased because my memory isn’t as good as I’d like)

Sean: “Ravens or Steelers?”

Flora: “Steelers!” (said in the most confident tone a football-ignorant person could possibly muster. Gotta love a toddler’s self-confidence)

Sean: “Good choice. Jets or Bills?”

Flora: “Bills!”

Me: “She may have picked them because we’ve taught her to say ‘Go Bills!'”

Sean: “I don’t know if I’d pick them right now. Seahawks or Rams?”

Flora: “Rams!”

Me: “I think she’s just repeating the last word you say.”

Sean: “I think you’re right”

Me: “Collapses in a heap of giggles at the futility of watching Team Mitchell picking out who will win at their sporting events of the day.”

We’ll have to see what happens when Flora is a little older and can actually grasp the rules of football. She may be able to help Team Mitchell make better picks and Flora and Sean can live out their own football-based Simpsons episode with a Daddy Daughter Day of their very own.

Or, given the way that Simpsons episode went, maybe not.

Lazy Sunday

September 19, 2010 by Melissa Price-Mitchell

Why is it that when I manage to do the following:

sort and wash my laundry
start Sean’s laundry
change the sheets and put the heavy duvet on my bed (stuffing a duvet into the cover is hard, dude)
wash my delicates
take the kid for her first real haircut (separate post about that coming) and pick up some socks and a toothbrush for her while at the store. Survive the store without using a cart or a stroller and we walked around and waiting in a slow-moving line
talk to my mom and sister on Skype (one conversation each) to show off said haircut
prepare three meals for said kid, and one for my husband (to be fair, Sean made the hard part of Flora’s supper for his lunch – he made chicken wings – but I still did all the warming/cutting as well as preparing the side dishes for supper)
wash dishes (once already, and a second time after I finish my own dinner)
run the dishwasher (I may or may not empty it)

it still feels like I haven’t accomplished anything today?

What is the killer chore that takes your day from unaccomplished layabout to kickass homemaker in one easy step? I’d do that chore if it meant I felt like I did something with my day.

All dressed up and everywhere to go

June 15, 2010 by Melissa Price-Mitchell

A few weeks ago, I bought a new dress to wear to a friend’s wedding that is happening this Friday. Flora saw the dress last night before it went to the washing machine and decided she had to try it on. I didn’t have a camera handy then, but I did have one tonight when I brought the dress up from the dryer.

(Click images for larger versions)

Once she spotted it tonight, she started saying “Pretty dress!” so I helped her put it on and she traipsed around the kitchen. While the skirt of the dress looked like a beautiful mermaid train, I’m pretty sure it did double duty as a floor mop. Hopefully I don’t have to wash it again before the wedding.

Then Flora decided she needed to finish beautifying herself:

She decided to do that by getting into my purse and stealing my lip balm. I don’t think she opened it.