A few weeks ago Ella and I were at our local farm implement/home improvement store and where we spotted adorable yellow galoshes in Ella’s size. We tried them on and Ella immediately dubbed them her “marching boots” and proceeded to march around the store singing (This is a mix of two Laurie Berkner songs “My Boots” and “We are the Dinosaurs…marching marching”). We bought the marching boots. Ella often puts them on before bed and marches around yelling/singing “B!--O!--O!--T!--S!--BOOTS! – in my marchy boots, in my marchy boots, my yellow marchy boots!” The last couple of nights she’s tried to go to bed wearing her marching boots. What follows can only be described as trying to rip my daughter’s most greatest, loveyest, only thing she needs in the whole world off her feet, sometimes involving two parents. We have a family bed and I refuse to sleep with yellow rubber boots. I was really hoping her “lovey” would be a soft little pink blanket or even a ratty old teddy. Last night we promised Ella she could put them on first thing in the morning.
This morning Ella literally jumped out of bed “Mommy! Gep-up, boots!” is what she said. “Yes, Honey you can wear your boots this morning.” She climbed down and put them on. I lay there miserable with my stuffed nose and gigantic sinus headache; I did not want to move. Ella ran back and forth at the end of the bed “BOOTS! My marchy boots!” right where we had left off. Not a terrible morning, until I looked over the side of the bed and realized my very old and decrepit dog had gotten up sometime between Dan left and I got up and puked all over the floor right next to the bed into my dirty clothes pile. I got up a little faster than I had planned and realized it was much worse. The dog had been really sick and had pooed all over near the foot of the bed… Ella had run back and forth through it yelling her boots song. Let me paint the picture - here was me stuffy head, snot running onto my upper lip, in my underwear, bed head, my contacts crusted to my eyes, dog cowering near the stairs because I am yelling “hold still! I have to get your boots off!” I am wrestling poopy boots off the screaming toddler in PJs while standing in pukey dirty clothes.
I had coffee before I went back into the bedroom to clean and I’ve saved the boots on the back porch for Dan to hose off. I just couldn’t take any more. But Ella keeps running to the back door asking for her beloved boots.
I almost spit coffee out my nose when I read my horoscope today:
“If life is a parade, you are marching in it – none of that standing on the sidelines and watching the spectacle pass you by! So wear comfortable shoes today – metaphorically and literally. You have a lot of ground to cover.”
5:00 Update: The house is totally clean - due to this morning's shennannigans spilling over into a total cleaning spree and Dan came home early and is soaking the boots in bleach in the basement sink. It's Thursday night and all my favoriute junky TV shows are on tonight! So folks the day did get better for me.