Our Day Was Like a Jukebox

Almost everything that happened Monday reminded me of a song title, and because I’m slap-happy at this late hour, I’m going to share it all with you.  Please forgive me.  Or feel free to sing along if the spirit moves you.  

Baby, Come Back — Monday was Tater Daddy’s first (official and full) day back at work.  He’s been off for a couple of weeks, and even though he’s had to go into the office a couple of times, the trips were fairly quick.  When he closed the door behind him Monday morning, I had to put a wooden spoon in my mouth and bite down to keep the scream from being heard across three counties.  The reality hit me square in the face:  I AM COMPLETELY OUTNUMBERED FOR THE NEXT 9 OR 10 HOURS!  There are TWO of them, and I only have ONE set of arms!  The fact that Tater Tot has made it to this age is a cotton-pickin’ miracle, what with having a big ol’ moron for a Mama and all, and I think I need an overseer assistant at this point!

But then my coffee was ready, and after a couple or six cups and a diet coke, I felt much better.  Every mama with a newborn is entitled to the “First-Day-Alone-Wig-Out,” especially if there is a toddler in the house.  It’s in the rule book.  I looked it up.

If the Phone Don’t Ring You’ll Know It’s Me — If you’re one of the few people reading this who happens to be one of my Facebook friends, you’ve no doubt read the status updates about the fact that our phone doesn’t work.  We’ve been blaming it on Tater Tot since he’s been known to take one of the handsets, turn it on, and hide it.  And you know that if a toddler hides something and doesn’t want you to find it, you’re just about sunk.  About the time the phone went out, I saw Tater Tot zip through the den with a phone pretending to call Poopsie.  The next thing I knew, we didn’t have a dial tone and it’s been that way ever since.

We have looked for a solid week for that phone.  This house has been torn upside down and inside out, and that phone has yet to turn up.  We even tried to bribe Tater Tot with chocolate and a new toy if he could remember where he put the handset.  His answer:  “Um…I don’t weely ‘member.”  Huh?  Tater Tot does not pass up chocolate.  He gets it from my side of the family.  It’s the main reason why no one in my family would ever make it as a spy.  If captured, we’d spill secrets at the slightest crinkle of a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup wrapper.  Sad, but true.

Tater Daddy sacrificed a good part of his Saturday afternoon wandering around Best Buy and returned with a brand new and very swanky cordless phone system.  His reasoning was that if we plugged it in and still didn’t get a dial tone, the problem has to be in the line.  I asked why we didn’t just drag out the old corded phone, and I got that look that says You really don’t understand these high-tech sorts of problems, honey.  Of course, what it really means is Me man.  Must buy shiny, swanky things that plug into electrical sockets.  (We have been married for nearly 15 years.  I’ve broken the code, Tater Daddy.)

He plugged all of the handsets in, far out of Tater Tot’s reach, and waited for them to charge.  I am shocked that he got any sleep at all that night.  You know how men are when there’s a new toy in the house.  (Strangely enough, this one sleeps perfectly well when there is a newborn in the house.  Hmm…)  Alas, we woke up the next morning to find we still had no dial tone.

I had a nice long chat Monday morning with Mr. Wilson at Bell South (which is the new AT&T!)  He told me to unplug all handsets from the outlets and jacks for about 10 minutes.  If we’ve had a power surge, this might reset the dial tone once I plug everything back up.  Once I was a “fully certified phone repair technician,” I walked into the kitchen to commence my high-tech fix-it work.  That’s when the next song started playing.

The Tears of a Clown — While I was on the phone, Tater Tot found a tube of lipstick and got to work.

lipstick jungle

He’s not in any pain, by the way.  He’s going through a phase where he makes strange faces when we take pictures.  

The name of said lipstick?

plum baby

Can you read it?  It’s “Plum Baby.”  Very fitting.

Even though I took his picture, I did NOT laugh in front of him.  I told him that I had to take his picture so I could show Daddy what he did.  Then I had him sit on a towel while I said, “I’ll be right back,” at which point I left the room for about half a minute and laughed myself dizzy.  Because, really… I simply couldn’t get mad at him for having such a good time with lipstick.  He’s a couple of months short of three years old.  Life is too short.  

Splish-Splash — Needless to say, the next stop was the tub.  The only way to get the little body artist clean was to get in there with him and turn on the shower.  Once he was good and wet I let him hold the shower hose, which cut the sting of having had the lipstick taken away and the paint job seconds away from going down the drain.

I scrubbed with a washcloth and Dial soap, which has never touched the sweet child’s skin, but J&J’s Baby Wash was not getting the job done.  After a little while, his skin returned to a recognizable shade of human.  Since I was already soaked, I went ahead and let the little stinker wash my hair.  I do not recommend this unless you are bald.

After getting out of the tub and putting on clothes, I decided to let Tater Tot play in the shower for a little while.  My plan was to put a little mousse in my hair, dry it a bit, and then fight the battle of getting our mini-Picasso out of the tub.  I walked back into the bathroom and noticed water gushing onto the floor and heard Tater Tot saying, “I’m making a waterfall!  Woooooooo!”

Dirty Laundry — What with using 398 towels to soak up half the city’s water supply from our bathroom (in addition to the laundry I’d already sorted for the day) I had quite a mountain of dirty clothes to climb.  This is about two loads of clean ones.  In all, I think I did nearly 217.  Give or take…

dirty laundry

Shout! — I washed this shirt twice, and each time I pretreated it.  I may have said a prayer or ten over it.


 There’s still a lipstick stain at the neck.  Thank goodness Tater Tot isn’t married or he’d have some ‘splainin’ to do.

Black Coffee — By mid-afternoon, thanks to the fact that sweet little Small Fry had a fitful Sunday night, I’d drained an entire pot of coffee.  This baby makes 10 cups.  


Cuisinart, from here on out, I’m calling you Cuisin-heart, because I HEART you!

Sweet Dreams  — Ahhhhhh…..naptime.  Lately, there are some days when Tater Tot takes a nap and some when he doesn’t, and some days he does just fine without one.  Then there are days like Monday when he simply runs out of steam right there on the sofa.

he's out

Of course, Small Fry still sleeps a good part of the day.  Lucky little fellow!

so tired

It’s OverThe post, that is.  

Thanks for sticking with it to the end.

You rock!


3 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Jenna
    Jun 10, 2009 @ 18:19:14

    I read this post out loud to mother and we both got a good laugh out of it! Thanks for sharing your crazy day with us!


  2. Lora Lynn
    Jun 11, 2009 @ 13:49:30

    This sounds so, so…. familiar.


  3. Sally
    Jun 12, 2009 @ 12:38:59

    YOU are too funny! What a day! That’s when you call and say bring home supper because there is no cooking tonight or better yet come home and I’LL go out and get dinner!:)


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