The ONLY thing I like about its being dark so early in the winter is that I just came down from getting the girls to bed and its 6:45.
Sometimes I have a pang of guilt when I come down and look at the clock. Sometimes I don't know what time it is when I start herding them upstairs. Sometimes I do. I feel extra guilty on nights like tonight when I don't give them a bath and can't even say its because its too late. I scrub the marker off their hands (and ears. and knees. and feet.) with a washcloth. Tonight I even tried to get the toothpaste that H put in S's hair (accidentally on purpose) with a washcloth. It didn't come out very well, but was an awesome mohawk gel. H was being a pest during the tooth brushing portion of the evening, as may have been indicated by the aforementioned toothpaste to the hair- she kept shutting the bathroom door and turning out the lights. Our bathroom is the size of a thimble to begin with- add myself and the two of them, the stepping stool- there's just no room. This could have gone two ways- I could have gone totally bat shit and lost my head screaming at her to turn the fucking light on and open the door, very easily in fact. Instead I carried on. The girls have toothbrushes that flash red light- in theory to get them to brush long enough- in the dark bathroom, they made a really cool strobe light. We danced around- it was very mosh pit-esque as there was no freaking room and we kept slamming into each other. Oh yeah, and S's mohawk.
Back in H's bedroom, S turned on the cd player. The girl is a serious music freak, she wants music all the time and dances like crazy. She's going to have dance routines soon, I know it. Dan Zanes started playing Hello, Hello, and Hannah says "Mom, can we listen to Bon Jovi?" WHHAAATTTT???????? She looked at me sheepishly and repeated "Mom, what does bonjour mean?" I don't know what so horrified me about Bon Jovi, other than having to suffer through more years of listening to Wanted Dead or Alive. (I have all Bon Jovi songs from every album etched permanently in my brain, along with the sound track from Annie, thanks to my sister, K) Have I scarred H from ever speaking french? Is she going to associate bonjour with freak out? "Bonjour, mademoiselle" "WHHAAATTTT?" I can see it now.
Then! And then! I'm recovering from that, and H says "Hey mom, look at this" I turn around and she has her bum in the air, shes mooning me! I couldn't help it, I cracked up (no pun intended) which means there will be many more moonings in my future. Not only that, but S caught on that it was funny, and she stuck her little diapered bum up in the air too. Two moons. Major not sleepy behavior ran rampant after that- the moon came out many more times until it really wasn't funny anymore.