Handprints

Last night was a rough night for Ellis and therefore me as well. Ellis woke up just as I was getting ready for bed (I admit that it was really late like 1:30. I was waiting on Paul to go to bed.) She would not go back to sleep. She screamed and screamed when I put her back in her crib. I finally gave up and put her in the bed with me which meant I "slept" with Ellis on top of me practically all up on my head. At 3 am, I had enough of the uncomfortable sleeping condition and I put her back in her crib. Again, she screamed. I angrily told Paul, who had gotten some sleep during all this, "it's 3 o'clock and I haven't gotten any sleep if you don't want to hear her scream then you can go get her because I'm done." He groggily goes to get her and claims that she has a poopy diaper and angrily asks where all the diaper changing stuff is. So I angrily get up, get Ellis from him, get the diaper changing stuff, and change what turned out to be just a pee pee diaper. I hand her screaming back to him. Two minutes later he brings her into the room to try to get her to sleep in the bed with us. As he walks into the room, I angrily think to myself, "I know how this will go. I guess I will be sleeping with a baby on my face." Sure enough. Ellis ended up on me all nuzzled up on my face. At 4 o'clock, she was finally restful enough to lay her beside me in the bed to sleep. So, I got about 3 hours of sleep, but the kind of sleep where you feel like you are sitting on pins and needles because your nervous about the child in the bed with you.

You may be thinking, "what does this story have to do with handprints as the title suggests?" I said all that to understand the fatigued state this mama and her husband were in this morning. After feeding the kids, because you have to keep your children alive no matter how tired you are, I crawled back in bed. Paul got up and was taking care of the children. I don't know what happened the next couple hours, but at some point in time Paul came and crawled back in bed with me for a few minutes. Just a few minutes. That's when it happened because a few minutes later we had two precious children come in our room proudly showing off their colorful hands. Parker's hands looked like he had smacked a smurf and Ellis hands were black (although after further exploration, they were actually a deep purple). That's enough to spring a fatigued mama into action. I jumped up looked down the hall the finger paints looked untouched. I was just thinking, "did he get ahold of a marker and break it?" Then, it hit me. I let out a gasp and ran into the kitchen and found it. There lay a puddle of food coloring where four bottles of color had been emptied and mixed. Paul got to work on that clean up, and I put the kids in the bath tub really just to contain them to a single spot. After getting them in the bath, I noticed that Parker must have tried cleaning his hands off because my pretty hand towel had blue stains all over it. I got to work using the trusty rubbing alcohol to get the hand print marks off the walls. It really could have been worse. The hand prints were mostly contained to the bathroom and the sheets of our bed. For the most part the evidence has been wiped away, although a few marks still remain. I guess we are going to have to do a handprint art project so I can show the children the proper way to leave their mark.

Ellis's handprints on my bed. I was in panick mode so I didn't think to take pictures until I got to this.