The Curse of Motherhood

There is a curse that every mother puts on her children. You can’t escape it. Some day you too will put it on your children.

“One day I hope you will have a child just like you!”

It almost always comes true. I know. I’m a victim of this curse. I thought it had come true when Ben started imitating Wreck it Ralph. Nope, not yet.

Then I thought it came true when Leah started smiling up at me with her beautiful blue eyes and saying “I wuff you mommy” every time she got in trouble. Nope.

Now I know it is true, without a doubt, because I can’t take my eyes off Rachel for even one moment without her getting into something. Most of the time it’s just eating chapstick, finding my chocolate chip stash, or trying to see if she how far she can push the light fixture┬áif she stands on the table. Every now and then she gets much more creative. In those moments I want to scream, cry, run away, hide, etc. All I can do, hovever is try not to laugh as I look at her sweet face and then make sure to take pictures for my mother so she can enjoy the product of her cursing.

A few days ago I walked into my bathroom to see this.

The first evidence I found.

You see I had made the mistake of thinking I could put Rachel down for a nap and then go downstairs to do some work on my computer. Since I was directly under her bedroom I thought for sure that I would hear her if she got up. I forgot to take into account her amazing ninja sneaking skills when she has some mischief to be managed. I went downstairs to tell her to come clean up her mess, but she was nowhere to be found. I thought maybe I got it wrong so I checked her bed, nope not there. I stopped to think. If I was a naughty ninja where would I be hiding. I went back to the bathroom and checked behind the door and the shower curtain. No luck. I stepped back into my bedroom and that is when I found clue number 2.


Oh my, that tub was brand new. I got close and looked around the corner. There she was tucked into a little ball in the corner of my closet. She was so small that if it wasn’t for her big blue eyes staring up at me in terror I may have completely missed her. I told her to get out of my closet and had to choke back the giggles.

shiny rachel

This darling child had decided to coat herself from head to toe in a mixture of vaseline and Preparation-H. I guess she liked the way it felt. It was also smeared on my desk, walls, and shoes. The urge to rip my hair out and scream was battling wildly with the urge to collapse in a fit of giggles. I told her I had to take a picture so daddy could see how naughty she was. All I could think about was the story I’ve heard hundreds of times about a certain little blond haired blue eyed three year old who decided to baby oil her mother’s kitchen as well as the dog about 28 years ago.

After washing her three times with dish soap and with her shiny skin still repelling water I gave up. We threw on a hooded jacket and went about our day running errands.

Enjoy your laugh grandma, some day it’ll be my turn!