About Me

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Nebraska, United States
A would-be stay at home mom working full-time as a teacher. I teach at my old Highschool, working side-by-side with my own teachers. I blog to keep the Texan grandparents updated and chronicle our life for future reference. (In other words, I don't have a real baby-book or diary.) Comments make my day. Thanks for stopping by! kimlepper at gmail.com

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

"Psh- Stay at Home Mom's Don't Work!"

No, we don't! We sit at home all day blogging, eating bonbons and watching our children play. If you contain them to one room, nothing ever gets dirty.

Like today this morning. It was chalk full of bubbles!

My wonderfully trained child ran to the bathroom to blow some bubbles. They were very hard bubbles- "Hm, lots more water for her today...hard bubbles are no fun," I thought to myself.

I beamed with pride- she's so smart, blowing bubbles in the bathroom at such an early age. I don't even have to prompt her anymore!

As she toddles off to play I think to myself, "I'm so glad I don't have to wash the bubble containers anymore." Being a stay at home mom, it can be very inconvenient to have to wash those bubble containers. Now I can relax all day.

As I check the calendar to see if we can attend an afternoon of relaxing and playing with friends my child starts squealing in frustration. I turn around to see a pile of runny bubbles on the floor. And my child's foot. And she's trying to get them off by stomping around, leaving lots of bubble prints on the carpet. Shoot. Those hard bubbles were just holding back the runny ones.

"Oh no! Bubbles in the bathroom, Samantha!" I swoop her up and whisk her to the bathroom- a mere 5 steps from where we are.

In those split seconds Sam manages to spread the bubbles more by flinging the patch of bubbles off her foot and then reaches down to try to wipe off the bubbles with her hand.

Then her immediate instinct to wipe her hands off kicks in and she wipes her hands on her belly. I get her into the bathtub and she begins grabbing random parts of the tub in an effort to help me balance her.

The water is running, but the bubbles seem to be spreading faster than I can contain them. Sam finally calms down, allowing me to take over. I'm able to wipe the source of the bubbles, which is a feat in itself as my daughter's bubble maker is like a vice grip when you try to clean it.

With lots of bubbles floating in the bathtub I finally get her out of the tub. In the 6 inch trip from the tub to the sink she manages to touch more bubbles and, again, instantly wipes them on her belly. "Samantha!!" I sigh.

We then stand in front of the sink and wash her hands and belly with soap. With the bubbles still soaking in my carpet I ignore my child's demands of "Sahtha do it!" and quarantine her to her room while I pop the rest of the bubbles.

As I begin my trek to the fragrant bubble piles my child-that-never-wants-to-get-dressed squeals that she's cold and wants clothes. I quickly throw a dress on her and tell (again) her to stay in her room.

I manage to pop the rest of the bubbles, scrubbing the carpet thinking, "In my year at the restaurant and three years teaching, I've never once had to pop someone elses' bubbles."

So, for those of you who are jealous of us SAHMs or are looking forward to becoming one, just keep in mind that you have to really like bubbles. And bonbons.


2 comments:

Jeremy said...

being so literal minded it took me a couple of read threws to get that bubbles = poop. I was trying to imagine what in the world hard bubbles were.

Granddad said...

Yeah...grandma figured it out while granddad was clueless....

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