Pie Night

We had some friends invite us over for Pie Night. I thought this was the best idea! As it turns out, I can only eat about one piece of pie before I feel a little sick. The good news was that I got to bring my leftovers home, so I had pie for breakfast and that wasn't too bad. Here was my contribution.



I had never made a cherry pie before, and it turned out fairly tasty, and pretty (my girls chose my pie simply because of the hearts—I know how to woo an audience). There was a good selection there, but like I said, I should have stopped after the first slice.



This sounded like a great tradition, but it won't be one we adopt ourselves. However, I would definitely attend again. I mean, who can say no to a slice of pie? Here we all are digging in.



Might I draw your attention to the attractive arm in the middle of the picture. Yep, that is Tyler. There isn't an inch on that man that isn't HOT! He was the tastiest looking thing there. Okay, I'll stop.

By the way, happy Thanksgiving tomorrow and all that. Enjoy your own slice o' pie.

Serenity Now!!

I was planning on blogging about our cute little FHE that we always have the week of Thanksgiving. We make a turkey and there is a feather for each member of the family describing what they are thankful for. Well, I guess I am blogging about the turkey, so here is a picture while I am at it.



This year the girls chose their own feather colors; hence the pinkish tint of the turkey. I think he looks pretty good though.

Then I came across something else that needed to be blogged today. It is not everyday you can take a picture of a pet peeve. Here is one of mine.



The girls sometimes decide to 'cook', or mix, or... drive me crazy. They will take every bucket and box of toys they have and combine them in one huge mess. AAAHHHH!!! This is worse than a normal mess because it means sorting things out again (because I'm anal like that). It was probably my fault since I was making a pie and they decided to 'make' a pie of their own. Somehow I thought that the last time they did this, I was exceedingly clear that they should never do it again, so I was actually surprised to see it happen again (what? My children don't listen to me?) Just walking by that basket made me want to yell "Serenity Now!" I demanded that they stop immediately and start cleaning up, at which point the doorbell rang with kids that I was going to babysit. "Serenity Now!" Usually the mess only increases when kids come over but Seth and Lyncoln were actually quite good at separating toys back into buckets. Then of course Ivory felt that these new kids needed to see the baby right in the middle of Daisy's nap. I reached the door too late to stop the impromptu show-n-tell and suddenly my baby was awake an hour early. "Serenity Now!" Most days I do feel like I am working backwards. The house starts in an awkward state and slowly proceeds toward utter chaos. Is it the fourth kid that tipped the balance? Or maybe I am just slowing down.

The Laundry Fairy

Today I was visited by the laundry fairy. I had folded half the laundry and I was in Daisy's room feeding her when June walked in and told me to close my eyes. Okay. Then every few seconds she told me to close my eyes again as she passed by the room. She is older so I don't worry about her usually, but there are still times when she gets into things hoping to surprise me and then it ends up being too much of a surprise. So I was getting a little curious as to what she was scheming. I was not supposed to go in my room, but I had to change the baby and all the diapers were in there. So I peeked in...
I noticed right away that most of the laundry had been put away; however, June does not like a surprise to be interrupted half way through. She yelped in dismay and told me not to look and I obediently told her that I did not see a thing.
Later she asked me what I thought happened to all the laundry. I asked if maybe she had put it away.
"Nope," was her reply. Of course, questioning the other girls came up with no solution either. I exclaimed, "It must have been the laundry fairy. I have heard about her, but she has never visited my house before." I could tell that June liked this answer a lot and she immediately played along. She told me that she would go look for the laundry fairy to thank her and she came back with a detailed description. I wish I could tell you more of what she looked like but I was on the phone part of the time while June chattered on about the laundry fairy. My favorite part (that I did catch) was the laundry fairy wears a shirt with a picture of a guy doing laundry on it. "A guy?" was my response. It seems fitting since we all wish some other guy was doing the laundry for us.
I'm sure I can work this to my advantage. The only problem is I had to put the laundry fairy to bed before the second half of the laundry was finished. So, I guess it is just me tonight. I'll have to remember and finish during business hours next time.

Confessions of a Moody Mom

I confess that I don't think much of herbal remedies. My Dad would be appalled to learn this. He has a whole slew of vitamins and what-not that he is always trying to feed me (I take some of them...sporadically).
So now I am on this herbal thing to make my milk come in and man—it is doing something to me. I imagine it must work on my hormones, to help my body produce more milk. I'm not sure of the exact process, but the end result seems to be that I feel extremely moody, interspersed with bouts of light-headedness and occasional headaches. Now the last two may have nothing to do with the herbal medicine. I told Tyler that I am killing myself slowly and he looked a little confused. I explained that you are supposed to eat more when you are nursing because you are feeding two and your body will give the nourishment to the baby regardless of the mother. Well, (more confessions) I am not the best at eating. I tend to feed my children and forget about myself. I grab a snack here and there, but I am not adding a significant chunk to my caloric intake. And then I go and start taking a supplement that is making my body produce MORE milk. Thus, I should probably be eating even more...I'm not.
So the dizziness and occasional headaches are not entirely surprising, but the moodiness is a bit unexpected and annoying. I told Tyler today that I was feeling out of sorts and he said that I have been a bit short recently (I don't think he was referring to my height). I feel bad when I can see my husband gauging my reaction before he says something. And I hate being cross with my children. I feel every situation can be handled with some grumpy stern words or some creative problem solving and a bit of humor. Yeah, I have been using more of the former.
So perhaps herbal stuff works better than I expected (sorry Dad). I need to reach inside and find some extra patience and perhaps reach outside for an extra bite to eat. I promise to eat a LOT next Thursday at least.
In the meantime, I will put my headache to bed; alone sadly. Tyler went back to work. I can't imagine why, I am so much fun to be around right now...

Rejects

I am getting ready to make a couple more scrapbook pages for Daisy (I do them by month) and I had too many pictures that I liked. So I chose the best to print and then I decided to put a couple on here to entertain the viewers. Notice, these are the ones that DIDN'T make the cut...and look how cute she still is.



If you want to see the ones that were worth printing, you'll just have to come over and look at her scrapbook sometime. Tell me you are coming and I'll make cookies (I always need a good excuse).

The Bane

Laundry is my bane. I truly detest it. I'm not loving dishes (although, with a dishwasher they are bearable) and cleaning bathrooms is just so-so. I actually enjoy vacuuming because it means the floor is clean enough to see.
But laundry...ick. I think it is because it takes so long. I like to start a project and finish it. The dishes I can tackle and then stand back and be proud of a job well done. But laundry...you spend ALL day doing it and then there are still piles to put away. And if you don't put them away, they either end up on the floor needing to be washed again or it's just more work for tomorrow. My children like to change outfits during the day and they will put the clothes they wore for twenty minutes in the hamper. Part of this is my fault; I stopped encouraging them to put their clothes back in their drawers after I would find macaroni stained shirts when I put the clean laundry away.
I tend to get a bit feisty now when I see them changing clothes. If they knew how much I hated laundry they would understand why I start to breathe fire when I see them in the third pair of pants for the day. My motto is: "Don't worry, it will dry" (unless it is pee—come on, I am not that heartless).
I try to stay on top of laundry, but it breeds in the corners and under the beds, and then there is the random laundry like the slip cover that needs changing every so often, and don't get me started on the beds. Sheets tend to stay on the beds longer than recommended (once again, unless the kids pee on them) because it just means MORE laundry.
Anyway, I only mention this because Tyler who doesn't do much of the laundry (I am NOT blaming here—if I could get out of it, I would too) washed load after load after load last night so I could just fold and put away today. I was folding my last batch of laundry and Daisy was getting fussy. I picked her up off the floor and cradled her in my arms while I continued to fold and then she proceeded to puke in the hamper of clean clothes.

COME ON, BABY!! CAN'T WE ALL JUST GET ALONG?

It was only five items of clothing that never even reached a drawer but instead went straight back into my bane box (also known as the laundy hamper). Sadly, one of them was my blue sweater which she did the unkindly justice of spitting-up all over on the 7th (I remember, I was at Ready to Learn sitting by Deanne). It then got left in the car for over a week, finally to be retrieved and washed, only to be spit-up on again before it even got worn. Ah, the injustice.

The prophet said this last conference, "If you are still in the process of raising children, be aware that the tiny fingerprints that show up on almost every newly cleaned surface, the toys scattered about the house, the piles and piles of laundry to be tackled will disappear all too soon and that you will—to your surprise—miss them profoundly."

Miss them?
Fingerprints - yes
Toys - maybe
Laundry - never!

Everyone Needs a Good Cry Once in a While

Mine was today.

I didn't think it was going to be a crying day. There was no indication (besides the fact that it was Monday, and Mondays can go either way). Nope, I was just jumping into the day as usual. I got kid number one off to school and then packed up two, three, and four to go to the doctor's for a check-up. Daisy is officially four months old now (I know, where has the time gone?). She is doing very well, except she didn't really gain as much weight as I would have liked. I know my children run small, but I still like to see them keep a steady upward trend on the chart and this time she kinda dipped down. I wouldn't be so worried except that I had problems when I had Robyn. I think my milk gave out early, because Robyn didn't gain ANY weight between 4 and 6 months (not normal for babies). So, I am a bit paranoid about keeping my babies fed. I swear my milk is non-fat to begin with because my babies don't chunk up like they should, but it is even worse when there isn't quite enough and I feel like I am slowly starving my child. So that news settled on me like a baby beluga. The doctor had some suggestions; she said to try More Milk Plus and it should help the quantity I produce. So I left thinking I would find some at my earliest convenience.

I staggered outside doing the lumber a mom does when she is carrying a carseat, holding the hand of a two year old, balancing her purse and trying to keep child number three reasonably close. There was a huge brown UPS truck parked next to the sidewalk, right by the crossing area. I realized that you couldn't really see around to tell if cars were coming, so I cautioned Robyn to stay very close as I tried to peek around.

I can't even begin to tell you how happy I am that I thought to take caution and that Robyn obeyed so well. Only seconds later, a lady came tearing through the small intersection. She took the corner sharply and sped away into the parking lot. I don't think she ever even saw us. She was probably intent on an open parking spot close by so she could save herself two minutes walking.

Furious would not be an adequate word for how I felt. I stopped to make sure all children were still accounted for and thanked my lucky stars that I was still walking towards my car instead of carrying Robyn back into the hospital (our doctor's office is part of a hospital). I would have tracked down this lady just to yell at her, but I couldn't see where she had parked and I was still carrying the carseat and holding Ivory's hand. So instead I just fumed inside.

Adrenaline doesn't wear off as fast as I would like. I got home with plenty in my system and then I made the mistake of calling Tyler. I think I wanted to tell him about this lady, and I wanted to ask if he was coming home for lunch so I could run over and get some lactation medicine. Instead, all my emotions bubbled up inside; adrenaline and a baby beluga don't go well together. They tend to just burst out through the eyes. I wasn't on the phone for more than a few moments before I regretted my decision to call because I didn't want to cry on the phone.

Try convincing your husband in a voice verging on hysteria and tears that nothing is wrong.
Yeah, he didn't buy it, and he came home despite my pleas to the contrary. It was nice to get a good hug though, and have a nice cry (most of which happened before he got home). He even let me run over to the store and purchase this medicine



(although I wish I had gotten the capsule kind, because I ended up with the liquid that tastes like I am eating thistles with a drizzle of honey on top—not the tastiest stuff, but whatever).

Not the most tragic day by far, but apparently I have been bottling up some tears that needed a release. And I'm not really complaining. I'll take crying over my kids NOT being hit by a car any day over the alternative.

It Tastes Better in Pink

The color pink—I really don't see what is so great about it. I actually hated it growing up, and you couldn't pay me to wear that color. When I started having little girls of my own, I became a bit more enamored with pink, but I do get a bit sick of everything being pink. When I had June, all her 0-3 month clothes were pink; and then almost everything 3-6 months was blue to balance out my senses. Just today I had Daisy dressed in these cute little blue pajamas with ducks on them (clearly made for a boy) and someone looked at Daisy and asked me how old he was. Don't worry, even when I dress my kids in pink, someone still gets the gender wrong.
My girls have heartily adopted the "girl" colors. They like pink, purple, red, and sometimes orange and yellow. Ivory especially likes the girly colors and it is sometimes a problem. At mealtime, we have a few pink bowls, and Ivory insists that she needs a pink bowl. Now, I just get the bowls down and fill them up with food; I don't really pay attention to the color. But the girls are very aware of what is in front of them. If someone makes a special request, I will usually get them a certain color, but other than that, 'you get what you get and you don't throw a fit'. We have had to use this phrase often. The older girls are proud that they no longer really care what color they get, but Ivory still tends to cry if her sister has a pink bowl and she got some other (lesser) color. I have tried very hard to explain to Ives that the food is the same, it doesn't taste better in a pink bowl. "Would you rather eat, or have the pink bowl?" is a phrase I sometimes use, because I don't mind putting an empty pink bowl in front of someone and see how long it takes them to figure out that they chose wrong.
Like I said, Ivory is the one we have been working on the most. Oddly enough, her cup color doesn't seem to matter as strongly, it is only the bowl. So the other night, we had handed out bowls and Ivory looked down at hers. She then looked up at me beaming and said proudly, "I got the pink one and I didn't throw a fit!"

. . .

Um, I guess we will keep working on her. At least she is starting to get the idea.

Blood Sisters

It is funny how I can't remember everyday things (doctor appointments, dropping off library books on time, etc.) but I can vividly remember names from my childhood. I wish you could say to your brain, "Thanks for holding on to that for me, but I have absolutely no need for it now, so you can remove it and make room for something important." If only. And thus, I can remember two childhood friends: Nicole Savage and Dion Miller.
We were very close in elementary school. I think it was probably fourth grade or so, and we finally decided that our friendship had reached a barrier. We couldn't get any closer...or could we??
I really can't tell you who's brilliant idea it was to become blood sisters, but apparently we all thought it was necessary. I am sure that I had something to do with it, because I remember doling out assignments.
"Dion, you bring bandaids for afterward. Nicole, you bring something to stop the bleeding, and I will supply something to make us bleed." Now, what would you bring to make three little girls bleed on the playground. A pin? A needle? Well, I went for the most dramatic thing I could think of—a butcher knife. I kid you not, people. I knew my mom didn't use it very often, so I thought I could sneak it out for a day to do the deed. I don't think I ever visualized up to the point where I used the knife. My sister said we would have ended up as "stump" sisters; not "blood" sisters.



I remember putting the knife in my backpack and that funny gnawing feeling in my stomach when you know you are doing something stupid and you could get caught at any second. I don't even remember how I got it out of my bag, but I do remember taking it onto the playground tucked under my shirt (I'm sorry, mothers out there, I am sure this is not making you feel any better about your kids' safety at school). Unfortunately, an annoying boy named Lauren (who had a habit of following me and pulling my hair) saw the knife and tried to get his hands on it.
It wasn't much of a struggle, because I didn't want to get hurt. He took my knife and threw it under one of the portables. Hmmm....well that ended the blood sisters, but more importantly, I was now worried that my mom was going to notice that the knife was gone. I couldn't exactly go to my teacher and say, "Um, some stupid boy threw my butcher knife under the building, but I need to get it back before my mom notices it's missing, so could you help me out?" I can just see how that conversation would go. So I did what every smart child would do: nothing.
Then one fateful day, I was called to the principal's office. I knew right away that I was found out. Apparently the janitor cleans under the portables every so often (darn it) and he must have been mighty surprised at his find this time around. And then someone must have told on me. The principal was very kind and considering that I had no previous history, I was let off with an easy sentence. I think my mother was informed (duh), but I don't remember talking to her about it. I must have learned my lesson, because I have never taken another knife to school, especially not a butcher knife.
But now you know my sordid past. I have been to the principal's office; but, I have never become a blood sister. How about you? (Were you ever sent to the principal? I'm guessing most of you avoided the whole blood ordeal).

Who Loves You?

Back when June was younger, I would say to her, "Who loves you?" Her response was usually "Mom", but once to tease me, she said "Dad" and I tickled her mercilessly for her incorrect answer. And so a game was born. I have played it with all the kids, but Ivory has a special spot in her heart for Who loves you. She is adamant that Dad loves her and she will get tickled over and over again giggling with glee. Her laughing is so contagious that I usually have requests from the other children to play Who loves you with them too. Robyn and June are much more cautious. They tend to answer 'Mom' interspersed with an occasional 'Dad' so they don't get tickled too severely.

I also ask my children often, "Who's cute?" and the answer is supposed to be "Me!" Just to make Ivory laugh one time, I said (after her predictable answer) "No...me." She looked at me quizzically and said, "ME!" So now we often go back and forth arguing over who is cute. Just the other day in the midst of "Me...me...me...me...me" she stopped and said, "I cute, and you not cute." It was so funny coming from her little voice, but it was such a stinker-thing to say that I had to give her a righteous tickling. Now she will say it over and over again just to get a good laugh. I have to admit that I love it.

"I cute and you not cute."

And speaking of cute...check her out.

Wednesday Thoughts

I like a clean mirror. We have quite a few mirrors in our house and they are all big. I have to climb on counters to reach the tops. So tell me this...why are there always toothpaste spots at the top of the mirror? If I can't reach up there, I don't see how I could spit up there. One of those puzzles that may never be solved by man. The water spots I understand, from washing hands and Tyler combing his hair while it is still wet, but toothpaste...you got me.

The Beanies!

On Saturday we got out and took some pictures of those adorable beanies that I bought and won. Here's a link to Noggins again if you want it.
This was the best group photo even though it was a bit blurry.



Here's June



Robyn (can I tell you how much I love this picture?)



Ivory



and my baby (I could just eat her up, drool included).

Punch Drunk

Do you know how you get really tired at night and become a little tipsy without any use of alcohol? Everything seems a bit funnier and you can laugh at things that aren't even amusing. Well, that was me and Tyler last night. We got all the kids in bed and then we curled up to watch a movie. We picked one at random that we hadn't seen (my parents gave us a lot of movies last spring) and the winner was Paper Chase. It was made in the 70s (which was obvious from the awesome hairstyles) and the storyline involves a guy trying to make it through his first year of law school.



It was weird.

I'm not even sure if I liked the ending, and the movie seemed full of angst. Tyler and I just looked at each other at the end and had the classic conversation you might have witnessed in the last post. Since we are both sleep-deprived parents that conversation seemed funny to us at the time and Tyler said I should blog it*. This time I humored him (actually, it was a pretty funny conversation at the time—I could see it in a sitcom). It was a little chilly in our house last night so we had curled up on the couch with a blanket and I was sitting on his feet. So there's your background for that last post in case you were wondering whether I had completely lost my senses.

No, it was just another romantic moment in the Cazier household.


*On a side note, things happen all the time that Tyler decides I should blog. I usually ignore him or mention that he knows how to blog as well as I.

Maleen: I'm sorry if I just wasted our evening.

Tyler: Oh, it wasn't a waste, I got to touch your butt for two hours.

Maleen: I don't think your feet count. Plus I farted on them once.

Looking for a Change?

Well, a while back I mentioned that I went to the dentist and I didn't have any cavities (Yay!). But I wasn't able to finish the appointment at the time because I couldn't leave little Daisy for too long. Well it has taken me forever to get back there to get my cleaning done. And I know why...
...it hurts. Man, I hate how sore my mouth is after they clean and floss my teeth. The lady who worked on me was brutal. I tried to sit there patiently, but I admit that every once in a while my eyes would squintch up in pain and she would say innocently, "Are you okay?"
NO!!! You are hurting me!
But really what can you say with your mouth open besides " Ahhhyaaeeaahhh". Once again I have clean teeth. I really should be better about flossing but my gums tend to be overly sensitive when I am pregnant and my teeth are so close together that I have been known to break floss trying to get it between my teeth. Blat.
The real reason I am posting is that I have found something that I like. Mint toothpaste is okay, but I am not loving it (I like mint with chocolate, but that is about it). Bubblegum toothpaste is a crime against humanity as far as I am concerned, but what else is there? Well, you may know about it, but I just found it...Clean Cinnamon. There is a little review here that is very descriptive. This is not the same as their Cinnamon Rush toothpaste (which I haven't tried). I really like it though. It makes my mouth feel fresh but it isn't that overbearing minty stuff. Anyway, if you are looking for a change, I thought I would mention it.

Is the Country a Game?

I was listening to NPR this morning and they were talking about people placing bids on candidates and seeing how their 'stock' does. Obama stock started at 6 cents a year ago, back when he was a potential, but his stock ended at around $100. Depending on when you got on board the Obama train, you could have made quite a profit. They say that the bids are opening today for the 2012 elections. I don't know how I feel about this. The country is turning into a bit of a monopoly game. I think people need to stop following a color or a party and they need to look at the people they are voting for. Tyler and I agree that the Republican party is not what it used to be. I feel like much of Obama's win was the Republicans saying that they didn't approve of McCain (I personally wasn't a fan).
I don't think Obama's win is the end of the nation (although I am amazed that people are so determined to have elected a "black" president when he's just as white as he is black). I think he will be a strong president with his smooth talking and flattery. He certainly can orate. I listened to his victory speech and he wasn't half bad (although he probably didn't write it himself). Truthfully I don't voice many of my political opinions, but I thought I wouldn't be doing my progeny any favors if I didn't even mention the election in my blog. After all, it is my country, they are my beliefs, and apparently this is my new president:

Call Me Moxy

So for the literature fanatics out there, you should recognize that line as a spoof on the first line of a rather popular, classic book.

Today's post is not about literature.

You may find it difficult to find the definition for "Moxy" as in the phrase, "You've got Moxy." That would be because "Moxy" is a misspelling of a word that's not so much a noun as it is a brand name. It is more-appropriately spelled, "You've got Moxie." Moxie is actually a brand of soda invented in the 1880s (yes, that's 18 not 19). For those of you wondering what the devil "Moxy" (or Moxie) means, Meriam-Webster will be of little help as they only remind us that Moxie is a brand name. They give synonyms: pep and courage. A thesaurus would lead you to a synonym set including: adventure, courage, valor, stamina, guts, and backbone.

As a side note, I've always wanted people to say to me, "Tyler, now you've got Moxie."

Today's post is not about spelling, definitions, grammar, or even advertising—all notorious fascinations of mine.

Of trivial historic interest is that Moxie is the official soft drink of the great state of Maine; also the phrase, “You’ve got Moxie” comes from the heavy advertising of Moxie possessing the ability to calm one’s nerves. Hence the ability to gain control of one’s nerves is often referred to as having obtained Moxie. Thus the synonyms “courage,” “determination,” and “fearlessness.”

Today’s post is also not about history—another of my interests.

Today’s post is about a well-mannered, short-haired Chihuahua who left California because the shelter where she stayed was overflowing with animals. It’s about how she was scheduled to be euthanized, but somebody came up with some cash to transport her to another facility…in Utah. About how she sat in her cage for days, patiently enduring the yapping of the Chihuahuas and other small dogs as they vied for the attention of would-be adopters. And about how a family with four little girls walked through the door one day and their dad looked at all the other miniature animals and decided to take her for a walk. It’s the story of how she came to be adopted by these Oremites; and how they named her, “Moxy.”

Meet Moxy:

Yes, she's got plenty of attitude, and she's quite the adventurer. She's two and a half years old, and some say she looks like a mix between a Chihuahua and a Dachshund. She's got a nice little asymmetric white stripe over her shoulders. You'll also notice her snout has two white patches—also asymmetrical. She appears to be house-trained, although I've already caught her peeing on the carpet. The girls love her and her first name (supplied by Tyler) was "Foxy" because she looks like a fox. I was later overruled in favor of the arguably cuter and cooler name of "Moxy." So as not to be overruled again, I immediately engraved them on her tags. No question now what her name is.

P.S. And now it is indisputable that I do, indeed, have Moxy.

One Thing Leads to Another

It is easy to look back after an event and see the steps that led up to the final outcome. You can see that if even one step was taken out, perhaps it would not have turned out the same way. This has led many to believe in fate. I myself do not really believe in fate, but I do hope to learn from the past...

You see, last year I came up with the Phantom DDS for my children, so I could feel good about taking away all that teeth-rotting candy and giving them something in return. It worked well, so the Phantom decided to pay our house a visit again this year. He had rave reviews once again.



We left a very full bowl of candy, and he filled it in return with presents for the girls such as lights, pencils, and nail polish. The girls loved everything. They went to work right away putting everything to use. We painted everyone's nails in Bloodshed red, Poison purple, and Pumpkin orange. I thought the orange was particularly fun so I decided to paint my own toenails. Then, I thought I might give June a go at it, as she has never painted nails before. She did a passable job for her first try, but she enjoyed it so much that she requested to do my fingernails as well. I thought the orange might be a bit loud for my fingers, so I got out the other nail polishes and chose a subtle pink. June did a good job again and then she asked if she could play with the nail polish. This simply means that she wanted to organize the bottles and pretend play with them (she has a great imagination). Over the years we have gathered quite a collection so there are many shapes and sizes of bottles. I saw no problem with that.
We ended up heading out as a family in the afternoon so they didn't get put away like I planned. Then I went to do some shopping with June and left Tyler with the other girls. Ivory decided she needed a turn playing with the nail polish too, but unfortunately her version involves opening them and painting everything in sight...

So the moral of this story is:

Don't leave anything hazardous within reach of a two-year old—and does anyone know what might take nail polish off of carpet, clothing, and furniture? Not just the regular polish either, but the fun stupid glittery stuff.

And NO, nail polish remover does not work.

Personally, I blame the Phantom for all this!