Little Fairies Without a Cause

"Wallery?"
"Yes, my friend."
"I am so proud of me."
"You are?! That's great! What are you proud of?"
"I went potty!"
"Terrific! Do you want to go use your Elmo toilet?"
"No, thanks. I went potty in my diaper right now."

"I'm not joking."

Twenty-four hours later, and I still can't get the Caillou theme song out of my head.
You know how songs "stick".  And it's always the ones you don't really like; the ones that you never owned the album. The ones you heard your parents singing and you swore you'd never allow those songs to enter your brain..."You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you, you'd feel like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much..." So the Caillou theme song is as welcoming as an open-wound diaper rash, and I woke up with it on repeat in my head. I've attached the youtube for those of you who enjoy self-flagellation.

  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QLbCedNKuxY  

So, that's me in my monarch wings at the Pacific Grove Natural History Museum. The Cousin actually took this shot. The Cousin also refused to put her wings on, so me and about 6 kids ran around the room pretending to be airborne. We're all aflutter, like little fairies without a cause and The Cousin just stood off in the far corner of the room staring at me with a blank look. I'm sure the masses don't expect a middle-aged lesbian to be flying around the airspace in large, cushiony, orange and black wings. It's 2013 and I'm sure many still think we just dig ditches, do plumbing and mow lawns.

I wish someone would have mentioned that a natural history museum equates taxidermy. Holy Shit! Glass cases filled with every fowl species known to a man with a rifle.  Cats, deer, muskrats, weasels and things I couldn't make eye-contact with. There were more taxidermy animals than on Wayne LaPierre's living room wall.

When we had entered the museum, The Cousin said, "Look Wallery! The tiger is angry!" And there it was, mounted in a large glass case overlooking the garden; an adult size, female lion with blue eyes and gnarly, saber teeth. She was staring me down.

"Wow!" I say trying to look natural and undisturbed.
"Why don't we find the butterflies and then the gift shop!"  

.......
And what can I say about a face like this?

"Real women enjoy their meals."

Well, a Sinatra tune comes to mind: "I Did It My Way."  And she always has done it her way.
Food is just one of her passions. The thing is, she especially digs fruit and her mom gives it to her like she's some sort of a juice processor. I changed four f*@king diapers of Sweet Pea's yesterday and believe me, they all resembled smoothies.

And I seem to be having challenges at the changing table of late. Last week, many of you recall, a clump of The Cousin's load managed to drop to the floor. Yesterday, due to Sweet Pea's innate desire to twist and turn while being changed, the entire diaper fell off the table.

"Is that Sweet Pea's diaper, Wallery?"

"Yes, it is."

"Why is it on the floor?"
"Good question."

Our day started out foggy, so we went camping. Caillou goes camping, so of course, The Cousin insisted we go camping, only I'd rather put a gun to my head than go camping with these two. And if anyone whines in the tent, like Caillou whines in his tent, it's all being dismantled.
We build the tent using strollers and blankets.
"That's a great idea, Wallery!" she shouts.
We all three have a discussion as to what we will eat on our camping trip. I tell them that roasting s'mores won't be practical. Sun-maid raisins it is! I then attempt to explain that raisins are dried grapes. They're not havin it.

A camping we may go...a camping we may go...

"Damn. These are good."

After camping, it dawns on The Cousin, that Nomi is in desperate need of a bath,

'Don't get soap in her eyes, Sweet Pea."

and Sweet Pea is in desperate need of the morning news.

"Garfield is getting so lame."

Well, girls gotta do what girls gotta do, just like artists gotta do what artists gotta do.
That's a fact.

"Don't bother me, Wallery. I'm painting."

"How do you hold this thing?"

When we head outside, The Cousin is excited to show me the garden. 

"This is mint. This is cucumbers. Don't pick the green tomatoes, Wallery. They are not ready.

Only the red ones."
She plucks a rosy cherry tomato and shoves it in her mouth without offering any to Sweet Pea,
Nomi or me.

Sweet Pea doesn't heed The Cousin's tomato warning and pops a lime green one in her mouth.

As that golden hour of 5:00 o'clock approaches, the inevitable is yet to come. 

What used to be a cheery little jingle, "Clean up! Clean up! Everybody do their share. Clean up! Clean up! Everybody show you care." has become, well basically, a dreaded f*#king chore.

This is an ariel view at  5:00 p.m. on any given Wednesday. 

And that's only one room my pals! That's only one room.

When I start singing the Clean Up Song, suddenly The Cousin is glued to Sesame Street and Sweet Pea decides she can read in Hebrew.

The new buzzword, I'm told, for doing three things at once is "tri-ti-tasking."

I suppose, since I do six things at once, I'm "sex-ti-tasking."

Sounds intriguing.
Most days, after we have our hugs and good-byes, I go straight home and take off the bra. I have no energy to do anything, let alone stop off at the store.
Yesterday was an exception. I needed a few necessities.
Cheers!
~tpg