Toilet Bojangles, Stage Mothers, and Attack of the Fake E.T.: Just another week around here.

So, as I mentioned the other day, we're currently redoing our bathrooms, and there is presently an actual toilet that I have nicknamed Sir Terlet next to our bed. I don't want to complain about this too much because: Haiti, but you know, it's definitely making life a bit more challenging around here lately. The main bathroom -- the one currently undergoing renovation -- is obviously out of commission. (Here it is, partly done, and partly THE HELLMOUTH, OMG):

This means a few things, chief among them that -- so as not to impose on our nearby friends, all of whom have kids of their own they need to bathe -- we've been driving over to my parents every single night to shower and bathe the kids. Since it's winter, though, we decided we needed to blowdry the kids' hair before we took them home, lest they catch cold/ form icicles on their wee heads like cartoon people. T is pretty patient and gets why we need to do it, but Lo....well, my god. I know most of you haven't met my daughter, but on the best of days, she's like a coked-out, greased up squid, in terms of temperament and keeping in one's grip, respectively.

As you might imagine, therefore, blowdrying her hair is not the easiest of tasks. On the bright side, it has afforded me the opportunity to utterly perfect my Toddlers & Tiaras stage mother impression, wherein I earnestly tell the mirror-slash-imaginary-video-camera how much my 19-month-loves the pageant life, and implore said child to work harder on her booty dance, all while blowdrying her hair. It's really good, you guys. (The impression, I mean. Not her as-yet-nonexistent booty dance.Or my baby hair styling skills.)

Another side effect of the main bathroom being effectively closed is that T is using the tiny bathroom in our bedroom in the middle of the night. As such, we leave the hall light on for him so he doesn't trip over THIS MONSTROSITY in the dark.

I...I think it's a giant KitchenAid-like contractor thingy, but since I didn't want the kids touching it when the contractor isn't there, I threw an old sheet over it. Only now, it looks like fucking E.T. when Elliot takes him out on Halloween:

And dudes, I'm kind of scared of E.T. on the best of days, but imagine stumbling out of bed, disoriented, to help your kid get to the bathroom AND FORGETTING THAT THING IS THERE AND AUGHHHHHHH.

Happily, though, the work will be completed by early next week, and when it's done, we'll finally have a bathroom that doesn't appear as though it's on a U-boat, circa 1943. AND!! Slynnro's husband, the shockingly (to me!) artistically talented Mr. A, heard my mad ramblings about Sir Terlet, and actually DREW me an anthropomorphic toilet, who he named named Toilet Bojangles. It is amazing, and if Toilet Bojangles isn't a reason to smile, I don't know what is:

Have a great weekend, everyone!