Making Up Is Hard To Do

A year or so ago, I posted about items my children and dog have destroyed. You can read about that here: 1 Of 1,000 Things My Kids Have Broken. And here: 2 Of 1,000 Things My Kids Have Broken. I should spend more time documenting this sort of thing. It will solidify my case when I present them an aggregated bill for damages when they turn 21. Typically though, emotions reign supreme in these situations, and after the initial anger and yelling, I just want to bring in the cleaning crew (my husband or me), and move on with our lives.

Though I haven’t written about recent mishaps, rest assured there have been plenty, unintentional and otherwise. Window blinds. Window screens. Window glass. Microwave. Dishes. Toys. Two bicycles. Necklaces. Shirts. Clothes hamper. Light fixture. TV remotes. Driveway pavement. Picture frames. Shoes. Chairs. Doors. Books. Cell phones. Cordless phone. Bathroom drawer.

It’s an ongoing nightmare.

Yesterday I went into my bathroom, and found Alex, with his face painted like a $20 hooker who’d been turning tricks in a coal mine. I was too angry to get a picture, but I should have. Let’s just say there was a lot of really dark eye shadow, and most of it ended up somewhere on his face nowhere near the eyes. The picture I took of the aftermath doesn’t nearly do the mess justice. This was only after I’d cleaned up. This is what was salvageable.

I hope Clinique or Lancôme do a department store free gift promotion soon. Because I need to restock.

 

© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2012

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