Oh the life I lead.

I try to make Sunday’s a do-nothing day; it generally doesn’t work out, as I usually end up cooking for someone in the afternoon. But I try to make is as chore-free as possible. Meaning no laundry, floor mopin’, room cleanin’, major household projects ... that kind of stuff. I really do think of it as a day of rest, especially for the kids.

It seems that they take my message to heart and commonly have a free-for-all and turn the house into a hazard zone. Keep in mind, my house is never all that ‘tidy’ to start with. I try to keep up, but housecleaning is not my calling. I am not good at it; I am more than a little disorganized and just do not enjoy the general cleaning thing.

It isn’t that I don’t like the house clean – I do. I love it. I just don’t enjoy doing it. AT ALL. There was a time, back when I was a pro-fess-ion-al that I actually paid someone to come into my home and clean – a couple of times a week. Whew, cool beans there ... let me tell you, there was nothin’ better than comin’ home to a clean house that you didn’t have to sweat over. But I’ll get back to that part of my life later – when I finish up with my proper introduction – today is about other things.

I’m sorry; I obviously get easily sidetracked …

It is safe to assume that a free-for-all day in my house does not make for a quiet day.

Upon returning home from church, I start on lunch, have the bunch change out of their church clothes, we eat lunch together and then everyone it free to do as they choose. It always seems that whatever is chosen equals copious amounts of noise.

Today started out as no exception. Little Miss was listening to a Barney tape (yep, we still keep the big guy around), AngelBaby was playing with her slinky-type toy – basically throwing it up and down the stairs. The older kids were listening to their preferred music venue and Frannie … well Frannie was trying to catch up on her blog readin’ and contemplating what to post herself.

Now you know that it is easy to get lost in blog world … I could spend hours just reading through, catching up on my favorites, discovering new favorites … I easily get into the blog-zone.

Which is where I was about an hour ago …

And then I heard it, or rather I didn’t hear it. The silence … all was quiet. Too, too quiet. You know what I mean. Silence (or too quiet) equals T-R-O-U-B-L-E! Big trouble.

I approach the stairs, and I can hear the whispers … the stifled giggles … the ‘shhhh, be quiet or MaaMaa’s gonna come up’ – Shesh .. this isn’t gonna be good, I just have the foreboding feeling.

I turn to go up the stairs and it hits me. A stench that is more familiar than I care to admit.

**WARNING** Gag alert here!

I proceed up the stairs and witness my children standing there staring at the wall. The freshly painted white wall. The freshly painted white wall that someone has turned the most grotesque color of brown. I clear my throat – they all jump – seriously jump. And I notice that AngelBaby is no where to be seen.

So, still slowly walking up the stairs, I inquire about her whereabouts … these children of mine all point to the bathroom.

You know what is coming don’t you?

I walk past the wall that is covered – up to about 3 feet, because I am sure that is as high as she could reach – in AngelBaby’s POOP! She has finger painted the wall with her POOP. A huge section of the wall … I mean, where does a 25 pound child actually hold all of that poop? I am just guessing, but I suspect she is more than a few pounds lighter now.

I bypass the wall, Frannie has a gag-reflex that can not be matched – I peer into the bathroom to discover AngelBaby standing in the corner; alone, naked and covered in poop. Again, I say – where did all of that come from? It is in her fluffy baby hair, all over her face, her hands are covered, and it is de-scuss-ting! Ewwww!

One look of my face and she knows there is trouble a brewin’. The tears begin and the others join in with their declarations’ of innocence, their complete and utter lack of involvement what-so-ever.

How do you get a child that is that covered in fecal matter into the tub? Cause let me just say – for clarification – I am not touchin’ it. No way, no how. I would throw up, no question – I once threw up when one of them had boogers approaching their mouth … ugh, I just gagged there. hmmm, maybe I am on to my next weight loss plan.

Oh .. there I go agian.

So, I wrap AngelBaby in one my I-don’t-care-about-it towels. I set her in the laundry room sink, because it is HUGE – and sprayed her down with the hose. She is soo lucky that there is actually hot water attached to that sink, I had to really argue with Mr. Farmer to add the hot water … I used an extremely liberal amount of Johnson & Johnson's Lavender Bedtime Bath, I let her sit and soak until she asked to get out … she is a water-baby so she could stay in there for hours.

The towel? Straight to the trash.

The wall? Yea … um … we’re waiting for Mr. Farmer to return home and no one is allowed to go back upstairs until he gets home. I know that sounds terrible, but seriously, I will lose my lunch and then later I will lose my dinner … I might anyway, if I keep talkin’ about it … I just can’t make the older kids clean it up; for some reason animal poo isn’t nearly as bad as cleanin’ your little sisters poop-art …

Mr. Farmer is actually a gem when it comes to this sort of thing. He has an iron stomach, which is good because with each pregnancy I have gotten worse and worse. I had morning sickness the entire pregnancy with each child and then it seemed to linger on a little longer with each one … now it is just a way of life. MaaMaa = queasy!

Anywho .. so Mr. Farmer has cleaned up far more than his fair share of ... um ... body fluids … God bless him!

Well there you go. Sunday at the Farmer house. I am tellin’ y’all there is just never a dull moment.

Hope your day is cleaner, saner, but still provides you with a few laughs … ‘cause you know we will be tellin’ this story for years to come!

~ Frannie


When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child.

1 Corinthians 13:11