Bath Tub Paint

You meet a boy. You really dig him. You date him, marry him, and have kids (or any variation, thereof, I’m not judging). You bring your babies home, you love them, feed them, cloth them, and take them on various outings and excursions for spring break.

Your children, run, yell, and squeal with delight at the promise of going to the neighborhood Pizza arcade, the Amusement Park, and the beach. On Monday, the children don’t fight, they love one another, they help each other with the arcade games, share tickets, and even take turns riding the bumper cars. Somehow, you pick up two extra kids along the way, but no worries, I’m sure their parents won’t miss them. You go home feeling like the best parent EVER, and then you overhear one of your children say “Nothing.” In response to the question “What did you do today?”

That’s okay. You’re made of steel, right? You keep on trekkin’.

By Wednesday, you’ve made it to the Amusement Park, paid for parking, walked around the campus to assess the plan of attack. Five minutes have passed, and the 3 year old wants to go home because she wants apple juice and hates rides. Huh? Really? No matter. You’re a game maker. You knew this time would come, and planned ahead, sort of. A family friend who came along has juice, which will appease her temporarily until you find a ride to enjoy. In the meantime, the 9 year olds are chomping at the bit to ride The Pharaoh’s Fury, and win some stuffed animal on the water gun game. The 5 year old, well, you don’t know what has gotten into her. She’s not starving, hot, cold, or otherwise complaining, she is just happy to be alive. You’re thinking, Is she related to me? Is that my child?

3 hours pass. You look down at your watch, 5:43 pm, and realize that the 5 year old has softball practice in 17 minutes. The 3 year old is still crying (no surprises there), the 9 year olds still haven’t ridden the Pharaoh’s Fury or played the water game, and the happy uncomplaining 5 year old is still blissful but doesn’t want to go to practice. So what do you do?

You take one look at the hour long line to the Pharaoh’s Fury, and head for the hills. While spouting off epithets and mutterings under your labored breath, you make promises of returning later this evening to the park to resume festivities. All seven of you (oh- there’s also an infant baby in the mix I haven’t mentioned) walk hastily toward the SUV to bring the 5 year old to practice 30 minutes late. Shortly thereafter, the yelling begins, rude words are said, and promises are broken. Did you make it back to the Amusement Park? No. Are you the worst parent ever?  Yes.

That’s okay. You’ve been called that before. Today is Thursday, and you figure, if they hate each other and you, then maybe they should harness their aggression with laser tag. They play two – 30 minutes rounds of laser tag, and have a fantastic time. Well, except for one crying hysteric, but we won’t go into that.

Look at you! You’re back on your way up to the top. So, on the way home, you decide to stop for pizza, frostees, and have lunch at the park. It’s a beautiful day, and the children hate each other, but no worries you can see this situation turning around.

It’s Friday, and . . . .the situation hasn’t turned around, but you’re going to the beach anyway. If all else fails, you can drown your sorrows, literally. You pack the car, the kids, the kite, and head off into the sunset (because now its 4:00pm, you should have left by noon, but no need to beat yourself up about it). You get to the beach, lay out all your accoutrements, and breathe in the fresh ocean air. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh, he just got my shorts all wet!!!!! ” “She just threw sand in my face!” On, and on and on.

You break out the Pringles, the marshmallows, and chocolate chip cookies, and silence again finds its place. The children peacefully nibble on their little bights as you scrounge around the trunk for the kite. The kite soars up into the blue sky, the children run, hop, and gaze in amazement. You pack up the car, pick up some dinner, and head home. Everyone jumps out of the car, and you notice one kid crying and one kid with a fiery red pissed off face. That’s it. YOU HAVE HAD ENOUGH. You refuse to even attempt to figure this one out. You get Nana on the line for reinforcement, and you call Dad to settle the dispute. You leave the room, you hear mumbles, a lot of no’s, a few giggles, and then nothing.

You return to the room.

“What did you tell them?” You ask your doe eyed spouse.

“Well, I just said they are both the best.” he calmly states.

“No, seriously, what did you say?”

“That is what I said. They are just fighting because they are both really competitive. It’s like when I handed them the ice cream cones, they started arguing over whose was the biggest. So I just said, they both are the biggest. Just like both of your nachos are the cheesiest and the meatiest. Just like you both are the smartest, and the best. Then I told them to shake hands and hug. They fell on the floor giggling, but I broke it up before Shelbi started crying about Chase breaking her hip. . . . . .Now there upstairs watching a movie.”

And that was that. And that is why you really dig this man. Why you met him, married him, and spawned with him. And most importantly, why you can have a crazy, unpredictable life, and still say “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” We’ll just add this week to your list of reasons why you love him soooooooooooo. Reason 9,888,756 Why I love him: He really is rather smart, and a quite dandy mediator.

Okay, okay, okay. So these weren’t really your children or your husband. They’re mine. But I’m hoping somebody out there can relate, or at least have a good laugh at my expense. After that day at the beach, we came home, scrubbed up and put our issues to rest. We’ll always remember Spring Break 2010 as the one when all hell broke loose and we needed to do a bit of cleaning up our minds, bodies and spirits. So here’s to a better day and a clean shiny body, the fun way. What’s our craft? BATH TUB Paint!!! Have fun making this with your kids.

Bath Tub Paint!!!!

What You Need:
Medium sized saucepan

1 1/2 cups of water (add more for runnier paint, less for thicker paint)

1/2 cup of cornstarch

1 cup of liquid baby bath soap

What To Do:
1. Bring water to boil in saucepan under medium high heat. Remove from heat.

2. Add cornstarch, and stir until fully dissolved.

3. Add soap to the mixture, and stir until there are no lumps.

4. Return to heat until just boiling.

5. After the mixture cools, add food coloring, and store in an airtight container.

*The paint shouldn’t stain, but just to be safe, spot test your tub before use.

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  • http://www.blogger.com/profile/04287160377348397097 Evie

    I loved, loved, loved this post. It was hilarious!!! I can sooo empathize now that my girls are on their competitive tear. It’s so miserable. Your husband’s methods work way better than mine’s. Mine just demands to know what the problem is in his really gruff, uber-scary voice and the kids just cower in silence. Then when he walks away, they give me dirty looks and tell me I’m mean — I seriously don’t get it. I have a gajillion reasons for loving my husband, but his response to competitive tiffs is not one of them. :-). By the way, thanks for not judging (chortle). Also, I was gung ho to try and make your lovely bath paints, but here’s how the conversation went:
    Me: Is there any cornstarch?
    My Mom: Nope.
    Me: Well, there goes that idea.

  • http://www.blogger.com/profile/05965414164281498109 Nicki Woo

    You crack-a me up!

    Hey, in my book it still counts as actually doing the craft, if you just consider it. So, ummmmm, job well done!