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Here you will find scattered pictures from my point and shoot camera, random thoughts from my little world, treasured memories of days gone by, hopeful dreams of the days yet to come, and a bunch of ideas - because I've always got ideas!



Saturday, March 22, 2008

Why It Took Me Thirty Minutes to Put on Make-up

Jonge spent the night at "Pake's House". Usually, this means that Pake does EVERYTHING for him.

But, this morning, Pake had floors to wax at church, so Jonge was left with me so I could get things done before we left for our morning thrift shopping.

Really, all I had to do was get dressed and put some make-up on. I don't wear much anymore (make-up, that is) because it doesn't seem to help.

It started when I closed the bathroom door enough so that I could see in the mirror that is behind the door. First mistake. Must not shut door!

Enter Jonge, who promptly finds a hand mirror.

"Look Beppe! I see pink potty in the mirror! Look! Look! Look, Beppe!"

Beppe can see the pink potty from HER mirror, but that wasn't good enough for Jonge. Oh, no. There could be no enjoyment possible for him unless I saw the pink potty from HIS mirror.

I looked. Made all the right noises, such as 'Oooo, aaahhh, pretty pink potty in YOUR mirror!'

As mirrored glass and pink porcelain were about to make contact, I ran for my 'drawer of secret treasures' and handed Jonge two 'Bee Movie' characters. One wound up and one had a battery. It took a few minutes of instruction while Jonge tugged at them saying "I do it. I Do It. I DO IT! I DO it!

So, while I attempted to apply cream to my wizened face with the bags under the eyes, Jonge put on a rather lively 'bee' show with the little boy in the mirror. Except that everytime the bees needed to be rewound or the button pushed (poosh da batton, beppe, poosh da batton. NO! i do it.) I had to stop and not do it, but give detailed instructions that were not heeded.

As I added the second layer to my aging skin, Jonge disappeared back into the bedroom. He returned with a jar of old wooden game pieces which I could have sworn were well out of his reach. The boy has grown taller in the last few days.

He lined these up along the pink tile counter while pretending to drink from each game piece as if it were a bottle. Now, he does know that one can pretend without putting something directly into ones mouth, but today that rule was cast aside like a thought hitherto unheard of.

I tried to apply the third and final coat to my cheeks to make them glow like a sun bronzed goddess - an overweight, flabby skinned, aged goddess - only to remember that the shiny bright paint on the game pieces is probably laced with enough lead to have caused my entire generation to do dastardly deeds. I do not want that for Jonge, so I attempted to take the now poisonous game pieces away from him. They cause war and global warming, I told him. He did not care. I took them anyway, but he had the dice clinched in his chubby little fist.

While I looked for my mascara (it doesn't show up well on a pink tile counter top especially when i am not wearing my glasses) Jonge rolled dice behind the toilet. I couldn't imagine which was worse, lead paint or the unscrubbed floor behind the toilet. Just because I am cautious about the health of small children, I removed the dice and the boy from the toilet area. Of course I told him that someday HE would go potty on the pretty pink potty. I swear he said "In your dreams, Beppe". Or, it could have been his way of saying "I'm not truly thrilled to have to leave this fun corner of the pink bathroom, and did you happen to count how many points I got on my last roll of the dice?"

Removal of all lead based paint being non-negotiable, Jonge attempted to talk me into letting him switch the night-light setting from green to blue. I like it on green. He was happy to remind me that "Blue your faberate codor". For clothing, I pointed out. For bathroom night-lights I prefer green. "Mommy's faberate codor green!". Yes. That is true. The button to switch the night-light from green to blue is minuscule so it takes several attempts for me to find it. And, I have to keep stepping out from behind the door to "See!" how grand the pink bathroom looks in a pale blue cast. This causes interruption to my Saturday morning eyebrow plucking routine.

Next Jonge notices the new Shabby Chic shower curtain. "Nice curdain! New one!" he says. He has a flair for decor, which I am sure comes from watching HGTV with this grandparents. He slips behind the curtain for an impromptu game of "Where is Jonge?" My thought was that I would now have time to pluck the eyebrow that still feels pain (one doesn't, due to an unfortunate accident with a folding screen many years ago). But, no. "Where is Jonge?" is only a fun game if I feel his facial features and try to guess the many possibilities of who could be behind my shower curtain. "Is it Pake?" Shrieks of NO! "Is it Famke?" More hilarious shrieking. "Oh! I know! It's Mr. Roger's!" Uproarious giggling ensued. "Oh! I know! That feels like Jonge's nose! It's Jonge behind the curtain!" Jonge pops out and says "Again!" I only find that game fun the first time. And, I am not wearing eye liner yet.

A not too happy Jonge leaves the bathroom allowing me to line my drooping eyes only to return carrying a rubber stamp kit containing a bunny!

"Make somepun!" he says, and I am out of that pink bathroom.

I think I only have eye liner on one eye.

2 comments:

Yvonne said...

C'mon - only one hilarious post a day is allowed!!

daisymarie said...

I'm sitting here nodding and understanding this entire post like it happened at my house. Wait, it probably has, minus the mascara...good thing I gave that up long ago!