Booty Wash and Baby Jesus

by Abby on December 21, 2011

You know how my posts usually have some kind of central theme or point? Yeah, not so much today. What do you want from me?! It’s only 4 days until Christmas and I haven’t wrapped a thing! Hope you enjoy this collection of random snippets from my life:

Underoos - this is not me and my brotherWhen I was a kid, we lived in Germany for a while. We had a Christmas tree with REAL CANDLES on it. That year, my brother and I both got Underoos. (His Superman, mine Wonder Woman.) There’s a photo of us posing in front of our tree in our probably highly flammable polyester undergarments. All I can think of when I see it is: “Disaster averted!”

I have 2 boys. They like to wrestle. They often wrestle in the family room. That is where we have our nativity scene displayed for Christmas. My 2yo has learned at his church preschool to identify the people in the manger. Inexplicably, this has led to his yelling, “Help me, Baby Jesus!” when his brother has him in a headlock on the family room floor.

My 5yo, who is learning to read, thought the bottle of soap on the edge of the bathtub said “Booty Wash.” Yep, can’t beat that energizing citrus and green tea “booty wash” with moisturizing beads.

I have a visceral reaction to the phrase “potty training.” It strikes in my heart the same mix of dread, fear, reluctance, and inevitability as the words “death,” “taxes,” and “homework.” But I had to laugh when my toddler announced in the middle of the grocery store, a propos nothing, “I’m potty training!” It got a laugh from the produce guy, too.

I have reluctantly accepted that it is my lot in life to always be the person who changes the roll of toilet paper. ALWAYS. EVERYWHERE. Restaurants, friends’ houses, gas stations… I don’t know what the odds are of that, but maybe I should head to Vegas. Where I’d inevitably get stuck changing the TP in the casino ladies’ room.

LINK O’ THE DAY: This post literally made me laugh out loud: “12 Days of Christmas. Remix.” I can’t decide what my favorite part is: the bag of stinging bees, the 9 sweating turkeys, or the poor dad trying to keep his kids on track as they “rewrite” this classic Christmas song.


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{ 4 comments… read them below or add one }

jetts31 December 21, 2011 at 7:38 am

I had Spiderman Underoos. Greatest pajamas ever.


Abby December 21, 2011 at 10:00 am

Are they PJs? Or underwear? Or BOTH? In the pic of my brother & me — which I did not post for fear he’d sue me — his look like PJs, but mine definitely look like underwear. #embarrassing


Frume Sarah December 21, 2011 at 11:10 pm

First of all, the title alone is worth all the tea in China.

I had Wonder Woman too. I LOVED-LOVED-LOVED them. I really did feel empowered knowing that I had them on and no one knew…

I am right there with the TP thing. In fact, I have recently accepted that my husband is never going to do it. And it actually makes me giggle whenever I see that he hasn’t changed it because it is as if he is just doing my bidding.

Or something to that effect…


Angie December 22, 2011 at 7:42 am

I used to play outdoors in my Wonderwoman Underroos in bare feet! Blake calls the wise men in our nativity scene “the daddies.” And in our house, calling it booty wash is completely appropriate. Those booties need all the help they can get.


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