My Legs Are Burning Mama!

Yesterday, I'll admit- during the middle of the day-

I laid in my bed

I pulled the down comforter up really high

and I hoped that if the kids came up and down the stairs calling out my name they wouldn't notice me laying there

in my bed

so I could get a little nap in.

Then I heard poor little Elsa sound more and more frantic

saying her legs were burning.

Truthfully, it was with a little bit of reluctance that I finally got up and checked on her.

Poor thing had wet her pants because she was laughing so hard at some silly antics performed by her big brother.

She tried to take care of it herself in the downstairs powder room.

She took off her wet pants then started wiping herself down with the wipes in the bathroom.

Unfortunately, they were bleach wipes not diaper wipes.

I popped her into the bath, washed her lower half down with cera ve soap and coated her in triple paste from the waist down figuring that if that stuff worked magic on a diaper rash it had to work on bleach burns...

And I think it did.

Thank goodness I saved the big old tub of triple paste, you never know when that crazy kind of stuff might happen.

A good smack

Oh the joys of parenting.

After a day spent seeing off the big game hunter for a few days, running errands to get a contractor's license secured for his big new venture, attempting to make the Honda-Car suitable for another to drive, replacing the already-lost-lunchbox of Mr. Big-Kindergartner, and trying to hunt down the perfect jacket for said Mr. Big-Kindergartner (that is the correct size), seeing the rain return, and trying to keep chipper for the kids while keeping everything in order and having family movie night (minus one very important family member)...

I would say, come evening time my nerves were a bit shot tonight.

I bribed the kids with movie (Charlie picked The Miracle and it was a good one) and popcorn if they bathed and got into their jammies.

It was after bath that the big smack-down came.

It was truly unintended.

Littlest Miss Sweet Pea was chirping rather loudly.

Ok- she was SCREAMING.

Just to make noise,

I wholeheartedly believe.

I calmly and pleasantly asked her not to do that again.

She screamed again,

in my face.

Maybe it's the hormones- alright it's totally partially PMS.

Anyway, I don't know when this became instinct, but without any real thought my hand whipped back and smacked her freshly bathed, still damp little bum.

On bare skin.

Poor poor baby.

I truly thought that the second largest beach towel we own she selected to wrap around her warm little body was covering said little bum.

But there was my handprint welt on that sweet little cheek to prove I connected.

And boy did she howl.

Rightfully so.

She was perfectly happy screaming.

Between sobs she informed me that {talking about spanking} that I needed to do, "little ones on little people."

My poor little sweet pea.

She's one of my very very favorite little people.

Sometimes I forget just how little she is and expect more out of her than maybe I should.

Next time I'll try to keep it "little on little people" even if they have a personality as big as Texas.