"Queen" #2: Kelly
(a story of patience)
Alright this may be narcissism at its finest...me choosing a "favorite" mother of mine who happens to look like me (freckles, bangs, brunette :) As you guys all may have guessed I do enjoy myself a good laugh, and Kelly over at Whoopsy Vaisey is about as entertaining as they come. Get ready...she also births her babies at home AND makes her own baby food! Holy crap, right? But you won't catch her thinking she's a mothering profesh (although she is the queen of word shortening) for she has moments like the rest of us. But instead of begrudging her job as a mother, you'll more likely catch her making silly stories to go along with her crazy daily scenarios and being her own perfect combo of wit and wisdom..and that is why we love her so!
"I could come up with something profound and heartfelt, sincere and sentimental to say about motherhood and it would be easy to do. About how it immensely changed my life and made me want to be a better person (all those things true). But let's face it, most of my days are heavy and thick and full of bodily fluids, whinny voices, sibling WWF, a crying baby and tornado-like atmospheres. On the day to day scale of motherhood I found sometimes my only sanity is to laugh and breathe through it (and take lots of pictures!).
Anyone who claims motherhood is a bon bon-eating errand-running breeze is drinking their bath water, but it has been and continues to be the very best ride of my life." -Kelly
Kelly's 8 step tutorial: What to do if your three year old comes prancing gleefully down the stairs covered head to toe in the entire contents of your makeup bag...
Step 1: Walk quickly out of the room to gather yourself and get a grip on the surge of rage charging through your being (I mean, you knew she was capable of such things, but still, somehow, some way, you find yourself surprised again and again at the catastrophes she masterminds).
Step 2: Come slowly back to the room to hear her say, "Don't I look beautiful, Mom?" At which point your red face slowly turns back to pink and you (might) chuckle at the display before your eyes. It's a sight to see after all: That rose colored bod and those mid 90s Brooke Shields brows.
(You take pictures because, as mad as you are right now, you're going to want to remember this one.)
Step 3: March her little fanny right upstairs and throw(help) her in the tub.
Fill the bath with less than comfortable waters (because THIS is not a fun bath)and commence scrubbing. At first realization that there is no way this stuff is coming off without a fight, head back downstairs for the grease fighting dish soap that is Dawn Dish Detergent and proceed to scrub. And scrub. And scrub. And scrub.
Step 4: It's out of the tub with her and into a towel, tears and all.
Once again, you pull out the camera to capture the aftermath that is the shame ridden face and the rose-tinted bath waters. You're trying to speak sternly because, this is no joking matter. (If you find yourself feeling very confused emotionally at this step, that's normal. Laughing hysterically, crying, feeling the need to stab yourself in the arm- all acceptable forms of emotion for such an occasion).
Step 5: Dress the offender.
Send her to her quarters with a light spank on the buns and a good talkin' to. (this could be replaced with other things such as: sending to the corner, a slightly harder spank to the bare buns, a toss out the window... whatever you and yours have come up with.)
Step 6: Asses the damage: It's medium to heavy.
Peering meekly into the room in which the crime took place, you behold the destruction: Tubes of oil-based cover-up and foundation coated and squeezed to the last drop, the last of the bronzing beads each broken and embedded strategically into the carpet, mascara carcass lying about with hair entangled in its semi-dried out wand, blush- obliterated (Deep breaths are helpful and may become necessary in step 6).
Step 7: You're almost finished (and so is your precious afternoon).
After closely capturing on film and surveying the damages, you make a list of the new makeup you will be in need of purchasing. Then you take the remains to the sink and commence scrubbing once again. As for the carpet where the dead makeup lay: make a mental note to buy a better stain remover (because chances are, you're going to need it in the future)
Step 8: Retrieve the perpetrator from punishment.
A kiss and a hug and an "I'm sorry" can go a long way. And if you've learned anything here today, it's patience. Patience and love for your little human that is begging (sometimes non-stop) to be disciplined and taught. Give yourself a pat on the back, because you just dealt with one (unscheduled for) doozie of an afternoon.
You survived! (Better yet, she survived and still loves you)
And best of all you learned that you ARE capable of being patient given you've had the right amount of practice. And lets face it, you've had plenty of practice.
That, and you need to find a higher, harder-to-reach spot for your new makeup.
team Boo ♥'s you
(and the Vaisey family)