Corn Starch, Beer, and Vacuums, Oh My–Oh and Merry Christmas Eve Eve

No, this isn’t a tale of Christmas baking gone horribly wrong.

It’s been an interesting morning here at our house

I was on the phone with a friend catching up and feeling very badly that in the wake of our hard drive getting fried I had forgotten to call or send an email or a note of any kind to thank her for the beautiful centerpiece she’s sent us for Christmas.

The girls had been noisily pushing babies around in laundry baskets–with LOTS of sound effects, I think perhaps they were airplanes–so I was happy when they relocated to their rooms and were happily and quietly playing.  Yes, I said quietly.

You see where this is going, right?

So Carolyn comes out looking extraordinarily sheepish and saying, “We did something silly, Mama!”  A close inspection reveals that she’s liberally sprinkled with white powder.  So I high-tail it back to their bedroom to see that the Abber-doo is COMPLETELY covered  in white powder, and it’s sprinkled ALL OVER their bedroom.

Cornstarch. 

Last night, Abbie had had a monster diaper rash so to clear it up I’d sprinkled her liberally with the moisture protecting powder.  I got distracted with crazy antics during bedtime stories and forgot to take the container (the mostly full container) off of their dresser.

So….  I set out to clean up the white stuff (we were dreaming of a White Christmas, right?).  I got the dust buster and handed it to Carolyn.  Natural consequences dictate that you clean up your own mess, right?  But the dust buster wasn’t going to cut it.  So I got the big vacuum.

Then the large piece of plastic that I’d neglected to pick up got sucked up and a sick,  burned rubber smell permeated throughout the room.  I unplugged the vacuum and inspected the bottom of the machine looking for a slipped belt, and satisfied that it was still in working order, headed out to the kitchen to grab the vacuum attachment to get into the cracks and crevices. 

The girls had been playing with said attachment this morning.  It’s one of their favorite forbidden playthings.  So I had banished the offending tool to the top of the cabinet.  The very tip-top where not even I can reach.   I reached up to the attachment, swung it down and heard a crash…  and fizz-whoosh…  and a splash….  and some drips.

There was an amber colored puddle spreading over the kitchen floor and counter….  and an amber colored splash decorating the ceiling.

I wish I could adequately paint a picture for you of  the things I saw and heard as the bottle careened over the side of the cabinet-tops.  I wish I could explain the confused thought processes in my head as I came to understand the second HUGE mess that I was going to be cleaning.

Beer.  Beer all over me, my kitchen, and my cupboards. 

Husband’s brother works for Anheuser-Busch and sent him a special collector’s item beer still in it’s test packaging.  It’s been sitting on the top of the cupboard for quite some time now.  Or at least since the last time that I needed to get the ‘cool stuff for which we have no place’ tucked away somewhere.  The vacuum attachment in one efficient movement, snagged the bottle and brought it down spilling puddles of beer all over everything.

So I mopped up the big puddles, I vacuumed the rest of the corn starch, I dipped the girls in a bath, and then I stood on the counter and wiped the ceiling clean…  and while I was up there took care of some long-forgotten dust which had accumulated.

In the span of  15 minutes, cornstarch was spread all over my kids’ room, beer sprayed all over my kitchen–even staining my ceiling, and my vacuum nearly bit the dust.  In the span of an hour, I got the messes, and the children cleaned up.  And they say this job isn’t mentally stimulating!

And now I’m sitting here blogging it, watching more snow fall and my girls snuggle as they watch yet another Christmas movie (I needed a break!), and musing that I guess these things really DO happen even when Husband isn’t off playing Navy.   I’m headed to get a  bath to get the beer smell washed off, and I’m wishing you all the Merriest of Merry Christmas Eve Eves.

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One thought on “Corn Starch, Beer, and Vacuums, Oh My–Oh and Merry Christmas Eve Eve

  1. This so sounds like the stories that my mother used to tell of when my brother and sister were little. They were thirteen months apart in age and until my sister died they were always getting into such troubles as this!

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