Ramblings: Horrifying the globe...one country at a time

So what did you do before 8:30 AM today? No, wait. Stop talking. Don't bother. I won the contest before it even started. To preface, we've had a friend from Ukraine staying with us for the last week or so named Anna. I've been meaning to try to get a picture of her with everyone, but I still haven't. After today, she'll probably be checking into the closest Motel 6 so it may never happen.

Anyway, she was offering her babysitting services this morning because she feels like she's imposing on us by staying here, even though she's not, and she's been great entertainment for the kids. They've learned about the Russian alphabet, asked her a million questions about Russia, and made her watch all their crazy dancing and cartoons.  Maddie loves listening to her "accident," or accent in case you couldn't guess.  After I finished telling her I'd never do that to her--meaning making her babysit the heathens, I went off to take a shower while everyone seemed to be contently watching Looney Toons. I came out after hearing alot of screaming and banging coming from Alex trying to lock the boys in their room. JUST GO LOOK IN THE DINING ROOM, he said. 

One of the older kids had obviously left the childproofed door to the pantry open, thus rendering it an un-childproofed paradise overflowing with temptations no 2 year old could resist.  Think a jug of Aunt Jemima, a half gallon of milk from the fridge, and an entire brand new Costco sized jar of praline covered pecans. Everything from the couches, toys, a football, books, the wooden window  blinds, and a majority of the carpet was covered in this 3- ingredient concoction.  It smelled like IHOP in there. And I'm still not sure how they got the milk from the top shelf of the fridge. I probably don't want to know. 

Do you know what happens to syrup when it hits off-white carpet? It turns into dark brown glue. A gooey goo that refuses to be cleaned. At all costs. Nothing will completely dissolve it. I think I'm bordering on completely destroying the carpet trying to get it all out, so I'm giving up. It's a good thing that the piano we bought last week to go in this room won't be delivered until tomorrow.  Because I'm 100% sure it would've been covered too, and then I'd be trying to clean syrup, milk, pecans and blood out of off-white carpet. Anna was impressed at my steam cleaner's success on the mess. I told her he's had alot of practice. The Hershey's syrup a few months ago was probably his toughest challenge so far. 

The sad thing was that Anna felt so bad because she had just offered to babysit and then the boys pulled this on her. She said that she started to get nervous when they were quiet for too long. I told her not to worry because they can pull this stunt on anyone's watch. Even if your eyes are on them the entire time. They grab at anything within reach and when you chase after them to get it back, they throw, squirt, spray, dump, or eat it as fast as humanly possible.  Just for fun. For kicks and giggles. It's like a twin sport. It's what they do for entertainment when Blues Clues gets boring. 

This is on the heels of another Avery-induced mess last night involving a new bottle of Orange-Glow wood cleaning spray and the contents of our office. My Mac was dripping with the orange oil spray, as were the office chairs, the basket of bills to pay, the keyboards, books, the paper shredder, and pretty much everything under three feet in height. I mean everything. The bottle only has about three inches of cleaner left in it. 

Once again, the kids hadn't closed the cupboard under the sink and left the cleaning stuff available for the taking. Jeremy nearly popped a vein when I sent him to find out where Avery was while we were all watching America's Funniest Home Videos, like we do every Sunday. He had been missing for several minutes and when I smelled orange, I started thinking he had gotten the bag of clementine oranges from the fridge and was trying to eat all of them. Nope. He was on a messy cleaning spree-which is kind of an oxy-moron.  The good news is that pretty much everything survived being hosed down in orange oil, even though as I hit some letters on the keyboard a little oil squeezes out from some of them.  But at least I won't have to polish the desk for the rest of my natural life. 

So I'm not exaggerating when I say I'm pretty sure we've 1) mortified our international visitor on her first trip to the States so badly that there will only be horror stories told around Moscow when she goes home, 2) reaffirmed every stereotype about Americans being loud and obnoxious and 3) convinced her that twin boys are not always as lovely and cute as they appear, and should be avoided at all costs. 

But at least there was no poop involved this time.