Makeup with a Monkey

Standard

Trying to get 10-uninterupted minutes to put on makeup while Monkey is with me in the bathroom goes like this:

  1. I proactively place the toilet paper holder in the shower and close the glass door because I know every time she’s in my bathroom the first thing she does is pick up the metal holder and take out all the rolls of toilet paper and then start unrolling them.
  2. Monkey comes into the bathroom and immediately starts to grab for the toilet plunger which previously was obscured behind the toilet paper holder, but now that the toilet paper holder is in the shower, the plunger is temptingly in view.
  3. “Gross. Yucky. Yucky. Don’t touch that,” I say and move the plunger over to the other side of the toilet, behind the garbage can.
  4. Monkey starts to remove used tissue and other delicacies from the garbage can that is now obscuring the plunger.
  5. “Gross. Yucky. Yucky. Don’t touch that,” I say about the garbage can.
  6. Monkey grabs one last used tissue and does her nose blowing routine which consists of her sucking back in as much snot and air as she is blowing out.
  7. “Things that are in the garbage can stay in the garbage can,” I instruct. I grab the used tissue and throw it back in the garbage.
  8. Monkey starts trying to lift up the toilet seat with both hands.
  9. “Gross. Yucky. Yucky. Don’t touch that,” I say about the toilet seat.
  10. I take her by the shoulders and direct her out of the bathroom and gently nudge her in the direction of the nightstand where she likes to play with the lamp and radio and phone.
  11. “Go play with the radio.” I turn it on for her so she can press buttons and make noise.
  12. Instead of hearing changing radio stations I hear BERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. Monkey has hit the speakerphone button on the phone and it is THE LOUDEST dial tone that I have ever heard in my life. Probably because on a previous day she hit the volume button until it was all the way up.
  13. Monkey is frozen, terrified of the gigantic noise coming from the phone.
  14. “If you’d like to make a call, please hang up and try again.”
  15. “Meepmeepmeepmeepmeepmeepmeepmeepmeep.”
  16. Monkey is still staring at the phone with a horrified look on her face and her hands up in the air like “I have no idea what I did.”
  17. I walk over and hit the speakerphone button again. She watches me. “See,” I say. “You just have to push the button again.”
  18. Before I even turn around Monkey hits the button again. We are temporarily deaf.
  19. I push the button again. So does she. For crying out loud.
  20. “Push the button again!” I exclaim. At this point I don’t really care if she keeps pushing it on and off, as long as “off” is part of the equation and I don’t have to keep walking over there. I’ve only managed to apply foundation and pluck two eyebrow hairs.
  21. She follows me back into the bathroom and starts unrolling the toilet paper roll currently in use. I roll it back up.
  22. I stand with one foot on top of the toilet, which effectively blocks the toilet paper roll, the garbage can, the plunger, and prevents her from lifting up the toilet seat.
  23. She starts crying, whining and throwing a fit that she can’t access any of the “Gross. Yucky. Yucky” items.
  24. “You’re done,” I tell her. I have HAD IT at this point. I pick her up under her shoulders and gracefully throw her out of the bathroom and close the door.
  25. Wild theatrics and loud fake crying ensues on the other side of the door while I calmly put on my makeup.
  26. I know where she is and that she’s not getting into trouble as long as she’s fake crying.
  27. I notice the crying has stopped after about 5 minutes. Bad sign. I crack the door. She has moved back to the phone, but as soon as she sees me runs back to the door and wild theatrics begin again.
  28. I finish my makeup, open the door, give her kisses and she’s fine. 25 minutes later.
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About Jen

On the Night You Were Born is my attempt to chronicle my joys and frustrations of parenthood. I’m fairly new to the mommy blogosphere, and I read some brilliantly-funny mom blogs, so I hope to be half as witty, insightful, and I won’t say inspiring. The only thing I hope to inspire is for my 4k kid to cut the sass and my 2.5-year-old to stop being disruptive at bedtime. Alas, they both come with time.

3 responses »

  1. That is too funny! I actually had the very same experience happen with my two this morning as well, but it included the toliet bowl cleaner, a basket full of bath toys, my hairdryer and toothpaste. I had had it too at the end, closed the doors and listened to Charlie bawl on the other end of the door.

  2. Love your blog, Jen. Keep it up! But as for this post, your first mistake is thinking you can spend 10 minutes putting on make-up. That would be a luxury! I give myself 10 minutes for blowing my hair dry, putting on make-up, ironing clothes, getting dressed and eating breakfast. Second mistake is not turning on Playhouse Disney. It’s a mother’s best friend.
    Colleen

  3. Pingback: Random Holiday !!! « On the Night You Were Born

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