Vaseline

We just converted Bridget's crib into a toddler bed. I figured we might as well- she needed something else to jump on. There's not a chance she would sleep in it anyway.

Last week for about half an hour, I thought we had made a breakthrough. I was so happy when I put her and her bottle in the crib, gave her a stuffed toy, a book and turned on Treehouse super quietly so she could watch Little Bear, and then crept out of the room.

She didn't make a single peep.

I waited ten minutes, and then made my way up the stairs like one of those hot women in the latex suits in spy movies. Think Angelina Jolie as Lara Croft. There I was, in my blue flannel pyjama pants complete with skiing penguins, making my way soundlessly up the stairs.

I lean on the wall, peep around the corner, and then gasp.

There she was, sleeping peacefully, empty bottle at her side.

I make my way back down the stairs, turn off the TV to maximize the quiet experience and start to answer emails. It was wonderful. No little fingers were trying to push the laptop screen closed on top of my typing fingers. No was one thinking it's funny to unplug and plug in said laptop 72 times a minute. And no one was spilling juice on myself or said laptop.

It was wonderful. I made myself a cup of tea, put my feet up and answered emails. What a wonderful way to spend an afternoon.

Daniel arrived from school, not halfway through my cup of tea, and I asked him to check on Bridget when he went upstairs to change his clothes. He is a very good big brother and is therefore is always a good person to check on her.

That day was different though. He made it to the top of the stairs and I waited to hear him creep into her room. But I heard him yell instead.

"Bridget, NO! Amy! OH NO!"

I race up over the stairs to meet him on the landing with her in his arms.

It's a wonder he could hold her. I might not have been able to get the traction required, considering she had stripped off every thread of clothing she was wearing when I had seen her twenty minute before hand. Somehow she had managed to coat herself from the top of her head to the tips of her toes in Vaseline.

God bless me and save me.

What on earth would the Hints for Heloise lady suggest I use to remove 2 cups of petroleum jelly (the purpose of which is to repel moisture) from the body of a 20 month old child who hates to have water on her head or face?

A full package of wipes later, I had the bulk of it off. But she could still get down a water slide in the high of a drought.

The screams emitted from the bathtub as I tried to get the Vaseline out of her Elvis Presley impersonator hair, were unbelievable. She screeched her head off, crying out for help to Daniel until she almost chocked. The whole ordeal was horrifying. I can't even imagine how she felt. It rendered me exhausted and I ended up yelling to Daniel for help as well.

The next morning's bath went about as well, but I did manage to get the bulk of it out of her hair. Instead of being the slipperiest kid in Edmonton, she was now the softest. But there was no way to get the hair clean. No way at all. She still looked like a blonde haired Elvis souvenir.

It's been about a week. She still hasn't slept a wink in the bed but her hair has almost returned to normal. It's not quite as greasy, but it's twice as unruly. Now she looks a little less like Elvis Presley, but her Rod Stewart impersonator posters are due out next week.