Teeth and Tutu's and Tv's, Oh My.

Any woman who has had the opportunity to care for something like, oh, a child, or even a beloved pet, might know all too well about what I am going to share with you.

If you have a man in your life, a husband, a boyfriend, a partner in crime who helped you create, adopt or purchase that something special to care for...you may have similar stories to contribute at our virtual latte table here.

Disclaimer: Daddy G is a fabulous, hands on Daddy, who adores his children, and I am so very beyond blessed that he is the Daddy in our home. I have several evening committments throughout the week, and I completely trust him with all 3 of our (never-rambunctious) children...

....he just may do things a little different than I would at times...

I know that DG certainly would put all the darling babes in mountain-fresh laundered pj's before bedtime. No way would I come home to find B fast asleep in a *way too small* ballerina tutu on her bottom and my wedding veil wrapped around her top. And no way would baby L be sawing z's in a *way too big* pair of flannel overalls(don't even know where's those came from) with hardened pieces of macaroni encrusted on it. Lucky for S, she just got to peacefully drift off to dreamland wearing the same clothes she went to school in that day.

I'm also fully aware that, just like me, DG is a stickler for hygiene, and therefore would always give the children baths, followed by a leave in hair conditioner treatment and comb-thru, and of course the mandatory and completely necessary tooth brushing. He's not the type who would
-give the babes a wet face cloth and say to just wash your pits
-take their finger,cover it with toothpaste,and say that's a good as a toothbrush
-and hair? What hair? The children have hair?

I also would be fully shocked to come home at an hour that is encroaching the morning, only to find the oldest 2, fast asleep, in nothing that resembles clothing, with the only light in the room coming from a screaming loud tv movie that had been set to "replay forever". That would never happen in our house.

And lastly, my lovely lady S lost her second tooth this week. The day after the tooth fairy came, the tooth was placed in a little box on top of the fridge. **What? I keep my kids teeth? Yes, I do. I'm sure it stems from some childhood issue like when I didn't receive that pony for my 7th birthday, regardless, I admit it's weird, but something won't let me just chuck them.** So when I walked into the living room and saw the little tooth box upside down with no lid on it, I asked the very obvious question to DG....Where....are the teeth?? **Not saying this ever happened in our house**, but if it had, I'm sure DG's face wouldn't have gone white as a ghost as he stuttered..."Ooooh. Oh. Oh. I was thinking that didn't quite look like a cheerio that baby L swallowed."

Yes. So it's possibly true that all is not done just as I would do things when I am away from the house, but I would like to thank my DG for the valuable time he spends with out little ones. For without him, I'm pretty sure they would not have been able to accurately share the differences between the Canon 7D and a Nikon D300 at kindergarten show & tell.

Two Evils

After 7+ years of marriage, I think it's safe to assume that the toilet seat is not going to be put down every time I wander in to the bathroom. {Or ever. Let's just be honest.} You'd think that growing up with 2 older sisters, KDG would have learned the rules of the potty rim. And, looking back, it is actually very possible that at one point in history, he did learn them, and even abided by them. But lessons learned in that time period did not stand a chance against the 19 years of bachelorhood that was to follow. Living in a house of 6 men, er..boys...created a new set of rules, which unfortunately did not include putting a toilet seat down. Fair enough. I can deal. I will not relent, but I can deal.

But today my beef is not with KDG and his alive&well bachelor habits.

Ladies. We know better when it comes to bathroom behavior. I thought. We are the ones who {socially speaking anyways} are cleaning/disinfecting/toothbrush scrubbing this nasty room. So one would assume we would know better.

The very last straw I had in my tolerance quiver was violently ripped out today when, in a rush, accompanied by three overtired and {never}demanding children, sat my white as snow arse down on a public potty {gasp} before I needed clean up in isle 5.

Only to find my aforementioned lovely bottom soaked in someone else's pee. Ok. I get it ladies. I do. You don't want your precious backside to come within 3 inches of that filthy/grubby/polluted public washroom seat. Cause who knows what living organism is just waiting eagerly to glom on to you and leave you with oozing sores all over your entire body for the remainder of your days.

But for the love of all that's holy, is it too much to ask, to wipe/dab/mop your own urine off before exit of the stall? Seriously? Promise I will do it for you. PUH-LEASE do it for me. Cause I swear to you, if I have one more wet bum moment, I may just get gender reassignment and begin leaving the seat up. Seems the lesser of the two evils to me.