Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



Friday, September 16, 2016

Baby Painting

The day started out normally enough.
Babies playing quietly while I snatched a couple of minutes online to look at drapes.
“Hmmm—the green or the teal?”
It had taken days to narrow my choices down to these two and my husband’s frustration with me was growing. “Make a choice. Any choice! If you don’t like them we’ll send them back. Need I remind you the neighbours can see into our bedroom when the lights are lit? And no, I don’t want to keep on shutting them off. The lights, not the neighbours.”
He was right. I wouldn’t admit that to his face, but I will to you.
I sighed. Green. Or Teal?
Feeling a bit parched from my time perusing, I decided a nice cup of herbal tea would be in order.
As the water was heating, I suddenly realized that I hadn’t been hearing anything from my toddlers for the past minute.
Silence is golden. But in a toddler, it’s suspicious.
I quietly moved toward the living room where they had been playing.
If they were happily engrossed in something harmless, I did not want to draw their attention. Then I’d have to entertain them.
And my drapery decision would be put off just that much longer.
I stopped in the doorway. Both of them were on the couch and I could just see the tops of heads. They looked all right. Happily engrossed in something.
Could I leave them alone for a while longer? I took a step back toward my kettle and future cup of tea.
Then, something told me to look a little closer.
I still tried to walk quietly, figuring I could just peek over the couch without them knowing. I moved nearer.
Nearer.
And that’s when all thought of leaving them on their own or drapes or decisions went right out of my head. In fact, everything went out of my head.
Because my toddlers had been busily--happily--engaged.
Little baby hands painting each other with diaper cream.
I admit it, I screamed.
Then dove for my camera.
You understand. This needed to be recorded.
For the slide show at their weddings.
And posts on Facebook.
Yeah. I’m on it.


Each month, Karen of Baking In A Tornado organizes a group of bloggers in a word exchange.
My words this month? teal ~ parched ~ baby ~ frustration ~ cream ~ herbal
They were submitted by the inimitable Carol Graham.

Like what you read? See what the others did with their assignment! Do it. It'll be fun!
Baking In A Tornado
Southern Belle Charm
Not That Sarah Michelle
Spatulas on Parade
The Bergham Chronicles
The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver
Dinosaur Superhero Mommy
Confessions of a part time working mom
Never Ever Give Up Hope
Climaxed 


20 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. Oh, it was you. Believe me, I have the photos to prove it!

      Delete
  2. I don't know whether to laugh or cry. That stuff is nasty, it sticks better than glue.
    But I have to admit that my first thought would have been to grab that camera too.
    Soooo . . . was it green or teal?

    ReplyDelete
  3. Replies
    1. Success depends upon the thickness of the applied layer. More is better...

      Delete
  4. What fun. And there are worse things for them to paint with.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Definitely! See Rena's comment below . . .

      Delete
  5. I am so glad you are part of our community now as I love your style of writing. And you did an awesome job using my words -- especially when it is a true story - my fave! It also rang a bell for me because when my hubby was left to 'babysit' our 7 year old and 2 year old, I came home to a black daughter. My son had spray painted her black to see what it would be like to have a black sister. My hubby was UNAWARE of what was going on -- SCARY!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Bwahahahaha! The creative genius. Obviously it come from your side of the family! :)

      Delete
  6. Whoa - a little of that stuff goes a lonnnng way. How did the cleanup go? I'm glad you had your priorities right and got the photo!!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yeah, we pretty much had to squeegee it off. Ugh. Funny now...

      Delete
  7. Adorable! Memories are made of this, etc etc.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Why is it that the greatest memories come from the most unfortunate events?!

      Delete
  8. And what would I have done? Screamed and run for a wet flannel! Have a great break, Diane.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Obviously of the two of us, you are the better mother, Mimi! :)

      Delete
  9. Consider yourself lucky! My two decided to play with another substance. The one that came out of Izzy's diaper! Talk about disgusting. No more two piece pj's in our house!

    ReplyDelete

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