No! Look at mine first!

When my husband was recently at meeting on a Friday night, I had the honor of getting the girls ready for bed on a weekend night by myself.  I mean that.  A weekend night, a Friday.  Lovely.  A little more relaxing for everyone.  No school clothes to pick.  No arguments about wearing heels to school the next day because it is a 'special' day [someone's birthday, a spelling test, the volleyball game, pizza day, or any of a 100 other excuses to wear that little inch wedge!].  Friday, is a bit more silly for all.  More reading time, because who cares about them going to bed 8 minutes late on a Friday!  So, yes we can read that book and that one and oh, yes, that one too, even though they are all big books, for the four year old.  And, no, you don't have to read - to the nine year old - I will read to you, pick your book. And, yes, we can play two, no three, games of hide-and-seek first.  And, yes, it is Friday, so no you don't have to go to school tomorrow.  To myself, yes, there is a bottle of wine in the pantry to open and share after he gets home

So, we three girls piled into my bed, dog on the floor, pillows and books everywhere.  Negotiations were short as to which order the books should be read in and where everyone was going to sit, lean, lay.  Ah, lovely Friday.  The reading began with My Best Friend is Ariel (because she is MY favorite).  Only about 100 questions as to why would a mermaid wear a dress, when she should just have a tail and a bra, and why does Clarissa drop that, and why is Sebastian mad, and why does her Daddy have a trident, and why does Ariel lose her voice?  It is Friday.  I have more patience for questions that she knows the answers to -- on Fridays.  On to the next book.  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lia feverishly tugging at her backside.  I wait.  I read.  Near ten year olds are whacko.  I'm thinking the jammies and undies are having a war down there that needs attention.  But call a near-ten girl on digging in their privates, or adjusting their underwear, or picking their noses too quickly and you risk a hummmmph and tears, use the opportunity to talk to them about hygiene and you risk a full on meltdown -- This age is bizarre.  I don't understand it.  I don't remember it, either.   Reading continues.  Hmmm, tugging turns to digging.  On my bed, ick.  I take a break and ask her to go wash her hands.  Although there were two layers of clothing between, ick.  I suggest a nail scrub and new underwear as well.  She says, calmly, I think I have itchy worms.  Ugh.  Itchy worms are what we call pinworms.  Ever had them in your house?  We have.  Twice last year.  Thank you to the then three year old's habits of sticking her fingers everywhere, 'cause you can.    "Do you want me to check?"  hesitantly.  Checking for pinworms can cause terror beyond all imagination.  But, alas, it is Friday and everyone seems relaxed.  Next thing I know, I have two strange yoga posers on my bed with bared butts in the air (did I mention, we were ON MY BED!) hands spreading cheeks and Gia screaming at the top of her lungs "NO!  LOOK AT MY BUTT FIRST!" then, remembering her manners, sweetly, softly: "Please, mommy."  [Because, uh, you want to have itchy worms too, just because your sister might.  Four year olds are whacko in a different way.  It is truly freaky]

It was a Friday night to remember. 

And, thank goodness they were both itchy worm free.  But Lia did need to take a quick shower, again; to remove a bit of tissue.  She is independent and showers herself (when I remember how I was told she may never walk or have control over bodily functions, I have that flash of relief, thankfulness, and awe that still comes wrapped tightly in a thin layer of pain) -- so, a refresher that it is actually important to wash one's body while you are in the shower conditioning your hair (again! the toilet tissue was not stuck in your hair little Diva) was in order.   Gia, then wanted to have a shower too.  Because, yes she CAN! do it herself and "LOOK AGAIN I have toilet tissue stuck too."   

Needless to say, they were more than 8 minutes past bedtime.  Lia comforted me by saying, it is a weekend mommy, it is okay.