Weekend at Maggie's
As you can see, we have taken precautions to keep Maggie's busy fingers off of the sundries.
All of the following happened on Sunday BEFORE NAPTIME. Madge was a roving mass of epicurean distruction. We have renamed her Hungry Margaret of the Amazons, the Godzilla of toddlers. She has special powers including a built-in food-radar and telekinetic abilities. She has perfected the "stretch and shimmy" maneuver. She uses it to pry open the pantry just enough to grasp boxes of cookies and crackers and shimmy them out the bottom of the pantry.
Next, Madge pulled 2 cups of chicken broth off of the counter and ALL over herself and her pajamas. The child was SOAKED with chicken broth.
And the icing on the cake:
Jim found her hiding in the corner of her room, gnawing on THIS:
Yes. She was gnawing on a STICK OF BUTTER. Don't ask me where she got it. All I can tell you is the child has magical powers. She's like one of the freaky kids from the Disney movie "Escape to Witch Mountain". She visualizes the food in her mind, concentrates REAL hard, and things start going all "WHOOOO-EEEE-OOOOO!" and presto. She is holding a box of triscuits.
That is what I get for spending the morning cooking meals for the week and keeping only half an eye on her. Lesson learned.
On Saturday, Maggie woke up from her nap with a real mess in her diaper. We decided it was so bad, she needed to take a bath to remove the stench. Madge was not quite awake, and not ready top part with her Blankie. We put her in the tub and she cried and cried for her cherished "pinkie". After much wailing we decided to throw in the blanket.
She likes to rub her nose with a corner of her blanket. Let me specify. A corner of DRY blanket. The dry spot got smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared, leaving Madge utterly bereft. We had to remove her screaming and kicking from the tub in short order.
And now a tour of our house. Lets start with our bathroom:
We plan to have a HUGE party with lots of beer and water. LOTS of water. Our guests will be required to use this facility and this facility alone, surrounded by fellow partygoers.
Okay, really this is our basement bathroom. As you can see it is under construction. This is the basement (JB) where I torture the nipple Nazis.
I figured I would start out with the UGLY.
Speaking of ugly, I would like to introduce my kitchen. I hate my kitchen with the passion of a thousand burning hot suns. Ironically, I love to cook so I spend a great deal of time under the lowered ceiling which boasts the luxurious seizure-inducing flourescent lighting. Flourescent lighting is also oh-so-flattering. It makes a person look fat AND pale. One day soon, I will feel so fat and pale whilst whipping up dinner that I will snap, and take a sledgehammer to the entire room. I will start with the ceiling, and work my way to the 1970's tyle cupboards. Then, I will stab the linoleum floor repeatedly in a fit of rage.
And here is my true nemesis: The Stove. I loathe my stove. Would you like to know why? Please. Take a look. Don't be afraid. It won't hurt you.
My stove has two large burners and two infuriatingly small burners. One large burner works. This is the second. It is as worthless as an udder on a bull.
I am not sure if you can tell, but it has a large button-type thing protruding from it. If anyone can tell me what the purpose of this is, I will write you your very own limerick.
This appendage appears to serve no purpose but to render the entire burner uselss. Any pot weighing less than seven pounds quickly tips, leaving half the pot hanging with no direct contact to the heat source. I would like to find the person responsible for the design and pinch the inside of their upper arm REALLY HARD.
And the lovely lowered ceiling with flourescent lighting:
Here is my kitchen in all it's glory. Our kitchen boasts FIVE doorways. Five doorways and no walls. Five doorways which leaves enough wall space to hang one small calendar and nothing else.
I found chicken on sale this week and decided to make a few meals ahead to freeze.
Please lay your eyes on the bounty of 1 jillion pounds of chicken.
Here is the view from our front door. The colors of the outdoors this time of year make my brain waves go flat. Grey, grey, and grey. If it snows, it's white for a day, and then quickly returns to grey. It's much prettier in the summer.
Here are our dogs, Harriet and Rainier. Harriet, the golden retriever, is our good dog and Rainier, the black lab, is our bad dog.
Harriet is sweet, loving, gentle and obedient. Her only flaws: She is really quite stinky, and she has no concept of personal space. If she could learn to hop on for a piggyback, we would wear her like a red furry backpack and bring her everywhere we go.
Rainier is our resident BAD BOY. He gets in fights with other dogs. Our friends no longer bring their dogs over to play because he has sent two to the vet with puncture wounds. He is an ass. He also has obsessive compulsive disorder and oppositional defiant disorder. The only reason he has not been sent off to live on a "farm" somewhere is that I have a soft spot for bad boys. I have several ex-boyfriends to prove it. And I love him. I do. He is a big baby and a sweet dog as long as there are no other dogs to beat up. Around every dog exculding Harriet, he is a giant ass.
This is our basement. When we showed our friend Mike B. our new house, his comment regarding this room was: "Great fireplace. Your kids can totally blow bong hits up it when they're in high school."
This is Maggie's room. My lovely talented Irish sister-in-law painted all these creatures on the walls when I was pregnant. We love Maggie's room. When I write the word "seemingly" it's all because of her. Imagine the word "seemingly" spoken with an Irish accent. That's Elaine. She is also adorable.
Here are the remaining rooms in our house. Notice the blatant abuse of the color red. We can't get us enough red. Someone told me red is an angry color. I cringe to think of what our color scheme says about us as people.
This is the office. This room was decorated by my husband Jim. It is quite manly. There are fish everywhere. And a big Dutch flag, because I married a big Dutch man who gave our daughter a big Dutch head.
And our Dining Room: More Red!
Red red red red red.
I love our dining room table. The weekend I went to BlogHer, Jim went to Indianapolis to pick up this lovely table, plus a four poster bed plus a china cabinet plus two beautiful dressers. My sister in-law Pat decided it was time for a change and was kind enough to pass along her lovely mahogany furniture to us.
I want to lick the china cabinet on a bi-weekly basis.
Here is our Living Room. We call our color scheme "Ketchup and Mustard"
And just when you thought you had reached your limit of red:
Red part Trois:
Red with little flowers!
Red with a big fat couch!
Here's a novel idea! Green!
But honestly, tell me what the Hell matches with THIS:
Daddy and Maggie:
Me, holding a dish of parsely, looking fat and pale in the flourescent lighting. It's the lighting! The lighting! Do you like how I set that one up?
Thank you for joining in the tour. We hope to have you back real soon. Take care now! And when you close your eyes to go to sleep tonight and see red, you will know why.