Spa Day With the Girls

Monday, already a challenging day on an average week, began as an even more hectic day for me. Kaley and I had thrown a large tailgate party the day before at the Buccaneers game and the mountain of pots, pans, utensils and such that I had to clean was overwhelming. Add to that a trailer full of coolers, cooking equipment, tables and chairs that had to be cleaned and put away and I had a full day of chores on my hands.

Not a big deal except that there was no school due to a teacher duty day which meant my two precious little girls needed some adult supervision. Not one to give up quality time with my girls, I boldly accepted the task of completing my chores while at the same time providing quality childcare to my minor children.

Easy squeezy.

Yeah.

While I wanted to play with the girls, I did need some time to myself as it is harder to scrub pots and pointy knifes when little females are crawling up your legs. Luckily, my oldest decided that she deserved a spa day so out came the Orbeez foot massager that Santa had brought her for Christmas. If you are not familiar with this device, it is a water bath for your feet that has little jelly like balls in it that presumably feel good against your skin.

Anyway, it sounded like a great way for the girls to kill a few hours. I could do my chores while they pampered themselves with a relaxing foot massage. My wife would come home to discover the tailgate mess a distant memory and my girls bragging about their pedicure party. Sounded like a win-win so I covered the floor with towels and set up a foot spa in their bedroom.

With the girls as happy as….. well, as happy as any woman getting a foot massage, I went downstairs to scrub my Cajun food covered dishes.

Can you say Super Step-Dad???

I was busily scrubbing my large cast iron gumbo pot about 20 minutes later, happy with myself for having mastered this parenting thing in only a year, when my 4 year-old strolled into the kitchen, looked around and informed me that she needed the large stainless steel bowl that was drying in the dish rack.

“Why?” I inquired.

“For the spa,” she replied, giving me the large innocent eyes she inherited from her mother. I had just cleaned the bowl and was loath to let it get dirty again but just like when her mother gives me the eyes, I had no choice but to acquiesce in-spite of the voice in my head telling me adding the large bowl to the foot spa was probably a bad idea. Still, all seemed quiet and happy upstairs and it’s just a bowl, right?

Take then bowl. Have fun!

Wouldn’t be my last bad decision of the day.

On a side note, the only way to resist the eyes is to not look in them in the first place. My only chance of winning any argument with my wife or kids is to quickly make my point with my eyes closed and hope the girls aren’t in the mood for an argument.

Back to my cleaning for another 20 minutes and I had all but forgotten about the bowl when my little one again came into the kitchen, looked around and stated that she needed a large plastic storage tub that I had just cleaned.

“Why?” I asked.

“For the spa,” she replied, eyes bigger than ever and if possible, even more innocent looking.

Quite certain that disaster was looming in my future I made what I was sure was a horrible decision and let little Sonya walk away dragging the plastic tub which was as big as she was. I was suspicious that I hadn’t seen or heard her older sister but convinced myself that Myah was probably half asleep, her feet soaking in soothing Orbeez.

Everything had to be fine. Nobody was crying. How much trouble can you get in with a bowl and plastic tub?

Back to my dishes I went, pleasantly surprised at the sweet silence coming from upstairs.

And then she was back.

This time wearing a bathing suit.

Asking for yet another large bowl.

“Why?” I asked.

“For the spa,” she replied with giant, innocent eyes and a sweet little voice that could only mean that some unbelievable tragedy was about to happen.

Bad word it. It’s not like they’re gonna burn down the house. I let her have the bowl.

It was the constant sounds coming from upstairs of on again off again running water that made me think I should probably check things out. You might have checked things out 45 minutes ago after the first bowl was brought upstairs but I’m still learning. I walked slowly up the stairs, more scared than curious, somewhat alarmed by the sound of splashing water and the patter of little feet running across the hard wood floors. As I reached the landing at the top of the stairs, I spotted Myah exiting the bathroom with the large stainless bowl in her hands, overflowing with water.

“What, exactly, are you doing?” I asked in a surprisingly calm tone.

“Filling the hot tub,” she told me in a matter of fact voice, sloshing some water out of the bowl onto the floor.

“The hot tub?” I asked.

Saying a quick prayer, I turned to look in their room. Not satisfied with a mere foot massage, they had filled the plastic tub with Orbeez beads and hot water. Sonya was already in the tub, a look of relaxation on her little face as Myah topped off the tub with another bowl of steamy water.

I looked in dismay at the floors which were covered in tiny wet footprints. In my ignorance I felt like this was the most serious consequence of having a hot tub in the girl’s bedroom. I put more towels on the floor and insisted that they dry themselves off before walking around the house. Giving them my sternest look to let them know how serious I was, I left them alone and went back to my chores, confident that they would no longer track water across my floors.

Twenty minutes later Sonya returned to the kitchen. She pointed at another tub and said she needed it.

“Why?” I asked.

“For the spa,” she said, this time with a guilty look on her face.

“I thought you had a hot tub already?” I asked.

“Myah won’t get in that one,” she explained to me. In response to my questioning look she continued, “because I peed in it.”

“You peed in it?”

“Yes, so we need another tub.”

Maybe I should have put a stop to things then. Probably my momma would have known better. Hindsight is 20/20. The fact is I really wanted to finish the trailer full of pots and pans from the tailgate party. I took the easier path. I gave her the tub.

The tears came about 5 minutes later.

The first thing I noticed when running up the stairs to investigate the crying was the water pouring out of the girls’ room. Then I turned the corner and saw Sonya on her side, still stuck in her flopped over tub, the room covered in what I was sure was pee water.

Where was Myah? Relaxed as can be in her new hot tub.

Those of you with more parenting experience probably knew that the hot tub was going to get dumped over. The wiser of you probably wouldn’t have allowed hot tubs in the room in the first place. Your expert parenting most likely would have prevented urine filled water from coating every surface of the top floor of your home.

Me? I’m still learning. I thought wet footprints were the worst-case scenario. Well, there were no footprints now. Just a solid coating of water and urine over the entire floor.

What do you do when one child is stuck in a plastic tub, the other is relaxed in a second tub and water that is at least 10% urine is flowing over the floors and under the furniture? I don’t know what you do. Nobody ever told me what to do in situations like this.

I did what seemed natural. I panicked.

I took a brief second to look Sonya over, making sure that I was dealing with fake “I don’t want to get in trouble” tears. Satisfied that I didn’t need to call 911 I began shouting, “Get some towels! Get some towels!!”

Myah did the exact opposite of jumping out of the tub to help. She just sat back in her tub and stared at me.

“Get some towels, Myah!” I shouted.

“It wasn’t my tub that tipped over,” she explained.

What do you even say to that? She clearly didn’t think it was fair that her spa day be interrupted when everything was obviously Sonya’s fault. Sonya was still pretending to be stuck in the tub and possibly suffering from a near fatal injury in hopes of avoiding punishment. All the while water was spreading to all corners of the house.

I picked Myah up out of the tub and set her on a towel, throwing her a second towel so she could start mopping up the water. I then picked up Sonya, putting her on another towel while also handing her one she could use to mop up water. I then emptied the linen closet and began frantically wiping up the water as fast as I could.

It’s not easy. Go dump 50 gallons of water in the middle of your bedroom and tell me how easy it is to clean up.

I had to move some furniture and soil every towel in my house but I eventually mopped it up. Meanwhile, the girls were still standing on their towels while holding their mop-up towels and not having cleaned up one ounce of water.

Just standing there looking at me like I’m some crazed idiot.

Which I suppose is true.

I cleaned the girls up and tossed them in front of the TV. I was left to sanitize the floors and then do 3 loads of unexpected laundry.

And I still had to finish my tailgate dishes.

As it turns out, allowing your children to play with 50 gallons of water in their bedroom is not the best of ideas. In fact, spa days for little girls are probably best held outside.

If your 4 year old daughter shows up in a bathing suit and you are not going to the pool or the beach you should probably ask a question or two.

I also learned that silence is not always a good thing. In fact, it is most often the opposite of a good thing.

I eventually got all the chores done and my wife came home to a clean house and happy children. I suppose it was a successful day after all.