Today has been a pretty normal day. Ruth has been in time out several times for disobeying. Will has been in time out several times for biting or hitting. Nothing too crazy though, and in general they have played together really great and wonderfully. I was a little frazzled at bath time because Will thinks the entire tub of water needs to be dumped out onto the floor every. single. time. he takes a bath. But once they were in bed I held the baby, who had been fussy all afternoon, and snuggled, and enjoyed holding her for a good half hour and felt really relaxed and ready to bring Ruth her glass of milk that she had asked for---I knew she was still awake cause I could hear her and Will chatting upstairs--and sing them some songs so they could fall asleep.
Upon walking upstairs I discovered that Ruth was out of bed. There was something all over her face. She was sticking something onto the walls. I tried to breath and laid Molly down in her bed.
Ruth had gotten out of bed--which she has done a couple times only recently, but usually its just to find us to remind us that she wants her glass of milk--gone into our room and gotten lipstick out of the diaper bag. The diaper bag that I had specifically carried upstairs so that Will wouldn't get into it and pull everything out of my wallet, or pull out all the wipes from their container---as he is so fond of doing. The lipstick was all over her face. She had also gotten out the bandaids that we just purchased due to an episode at the park where we'd needed them and I'd realized I was all out, and was sticking masses of them along the walls. I felt like I was keeping it together pretty well as I washed her face and told her that it was not good to get out of bed and into my room and bag...and then I looked at her quilt. The one I spent hours making. Yup, lipstick.
This is when I should have taken a picture. Reminded myself that all toddlers do things like this. Reminded myself that her little person is so much more important than inanimate objects. But I didn't. I told her to get in bed and not move a muscle. Now. She burst into tears and hid her head in her pillow. I took her quilt and went downstairs to cry.
Now is the guilty part. The bandaids came off the walls in less than thirty seconds. It took oxyclean and a toothbrush about three minutes to get all the lipstick stains reasonably out of the quilt and then it was put in the wash. She'd even closed the lipstick herself and put it back in the zippered pocket that it was supposed to be in. I washed the dishes to cool down a bit and remind myself how silly I was to react this way. I went upstairs to give her a hug and tell her I loved her but she was already asleep. Poor girl, she didn't even dare get out of bed to get her bear that was right beside it. I gave her her bear and tucked another quilt around her.
Why is it so hard to have a three year old sometimes?