Killing Time

Our house has been on the market for about a week and a half. All the touch ups have been done, all the deep down cleaning taken care of, the move to The Woodlands looms in the near future....and now there's nothing much left to do but kill time.

Mark's new job doesn't officially start for a few more weeks (thanks to having to get hospital privleges at FIVE different hospitals!) and really, we're just patiently desperately waiting for a buyer for our house. We'll be taking off in a few weeks (over spring break) whether the house has sold or not, because A) Mark has to start working and B) I'm more than half way through my pregnancy. I've gotta get down there and get a new doctor before anything goes awry...you know, as it tends to do at the end of my pregnancies.

So in the mean time, we've been wracking our brains trying to come up with things to do. Mainly things to get the kids out of the house so they don't destroy what we've attempted to make look so nice. Here's what we've come up with so far:

I'm still pretty pathetic when it comes to spending time outside in the cold, but the boys could care less. So after dinner, Mark will walk the boys up to the pond behind our house to feed the ducks. They love it, of course.

Doing the same on a slightly warmer day. Two brothers! Soon to be three!

And there's always afternoon fishing at the same spot. Kolbe attempts to actually fish while Rudy just sits there and eats the corn Mark takes as bait.

Or pointless trips to Home Depot with no shopping list in tow. But we've managed to find a "little boy ax," "little boy shovel," "little boy rake," "little boy...." as Kolbe calls them all.

And Mark decided to get in a little Texas Tech action with Kolbe before we move so far away from Raiderland. They took in the first chunk of a Red Raider baseball game after nap one day while Rudy and I did grocery shopping.

And when all else fails, there's always countless books to read.... Oh, and there's me at 20 weeks prego. See the beginnings of a baby bump??? No??? I can only get a picture of it when I'm slightly crumpled up like this...pitiful, I know. He's in there though! I swear!

TTT: Season 2, Episode 8

1. Let me start by saying that I hate home selling. Loathe. Hate. Abhor. Whatever you want to call it, it's miserable. I feel like I've had a ba-humbug attitude about the whole thing for the majority of this week. We're barely over a week into our house being on the market and I'm already totally impatient! Maybe if it was one of those "oh, let's put our house on the market and see if it sells so we can move to a nicer home and if it doesn't we'll just stay here for a while longer" type things. Maybe then I'd be able to be a little more positive. But right now it's more of one of those panicky things where I find myself having thoughts like Seriously, we have to sell this house. We need to leave roughly three weeks from now so that Mark can start his job, so that I can find a doctor, so that we can stay together as a family so that we can settle in to a new home...and on and on and on. And really, there's not that much to panic about. It's more of how I want things to go. After all, we can stay with my parents down in The Woodlands while we're transitioning, but really, let's be honest. Living in someone elses home while all of your belongings are nine hours away back in Lubbock isn't exactly the most stable, balanced state to be in. Especially while finishing out a pregnancy, bringing a new baby home, starting a new job, changing the family dynamic completely. You know, major things! In my ideal world, the house would sell, we'd stay with my parents for a few weeks tops, we'd find a new home, the movers would load up all of our stuff, we'd move in, we'd get all settled, the new baby would arrive, etc. Sounds seamless, right?

I have a feeling I'm not going to get my "ideal world" scenario. Maybe, but I doubt it. Pray for my patience, people! That, and that the house will sell. Soon!

2. Do you mind if I continue my grumble? Well, I'll say one nice thing first: I love living in such a clean, spiffy house. Man, it's lovely to waltz into the kitchen and see nothing but clean, white space. Or to see freshly made beds in each room. Fresh, untouched paint on the walls. Nicely swept carpets and floors. No smudges anywhere. Kind of how you'd imagine the home of a little old retired lady. Highly unrealistic for a family with two little ones.

And that's the problem. It's highly unrealistic for a family with two little ones. Yes, it's so pretty and fresh and clean and crisp and ahhhhh. But guess who gets to attempt to keep it that way!?! Grrr! Getting all the work done was one thing, but keeping it pristine is another. And the past few days, since we haven't had any lookers, it's been that internal struggle of Hmmm...I see a bunch of spots on the tile floor, and man, the carpets could really use a vacuuming...oh, and the back door has a ton of finger prints on it...but I'd really like to get out my sewing machine during nap time today... It's the completely cleaning up after every single meal. Making the beds look perfect, including the decorative pillows. Wiping up spots every. single. time. I see them. You know, instead of stepping over them and promising myself to do it later.

It's getting old. Fast.

But on a positive note, I've been trying to teach the boys how to help me out with cleaning chores. I give them each a wet towel and have them wipe spots on the floor. (Even though I always have to go back over them.) And they love taking turns with the vacuum. Or having a contest to see who can pick up the most toys the fastest. Oh, and Mr. Kolbe is quite the bed maker. He's so proud of himself...and you'd think a tornado hit the thing.

Maybe it's a good thing that we're planning on taking off over spring break. Just about three more weeks left of trying to keep this place up. I don't know if I'd be able to do it for months and months! It's similar to the street sweeper bothering to make his rounds in Lubbock, Texas during dust storm season.

3. Kolbe made me cry a few nights ago. Not in pain, though he's done that before too. One of those emotional, tear-jerker cries. Rudy had already fallen asleep and I was sitting on Kolbe's bed hoping he'd calm down a bit after a long day of several incidents of getting in trouble. Out of the blue, he asked me to sing "Because the Lord is my Shepherd," a song I sing to them frequently but not every night. I thought it was so sweet so I cuddled up to him, sang his song, and decided to have a little talk with him.

Me: Kolbe, when Mama and Dada tell you do to things, it's not because we don't like you or are trying to be mean. We are trying to teach you how to be a good boy. And trying to show you what's right and wrong. Did you know that when Mama was a little girl, Pinkie did the same things with me?
Kolbe: Pinkie is my grandma.
Me: I know she is. But Pinkie is my mama. Pinkie is who took care of me when I was a little girl. And Pinkie told me things like No, no, Laura, don't do that....Don't throw toys, Laura...Stay in your bed, Laura...Please don't touch that, Laura...just the same way I tell you those things. Pinkie and Pa were trying to teach me how to be a good person the same way that Mama and Dada are trying to teach you how to be a good person. They took good care of me so that some day I could take care of you.
Kolbe: Mama, guess what?
Me: What?
Kolbe: Some day I will take care of you.
Me: Oh really! You will?
Kolbe: Uh-huh. I will put you in my car and I will take you to the doctor and I will give you your medicine and I will make you not hurt anymore. And I will take you to the park and to Market Street and Sams and the fabric store when you need to get fabrics. And if you need help with your pants, I will take you to the bathroom.
(of course, by this point I'm tearing up.)
Me: Well that's so nice, Kolbe. That means a lot to Mama.
Kolbe: (rubbing the brace I had on my wrist) Yeah, I will take care of you and make you not hurt anymore. I will.

I didn't say much more. Just let the moment be. Though so many things ran through my mind. How he was obviously and completely aware of the ways that I take care of him. How he had the desire to do the same things for me. How he was somehow aware that someday, I would need taking care of in the exact same ways. How he was aware that parts of that care-needing, I'm already dealing with now. How he somehow subconsciously understood the cycle of life. So bittersweet. Sad, precious, profound.

Beautiful.

Rudy Ray, the Birthday "Bay!"

I couldn't help but use "bay" to rhyme with "Ray" in the post title...when we were little, my brother Andy used to say "Bays and Grills" for "boys and girls." Still funny, even now.

Anyway, Rudy Boy's birthday was last week on the tenth and we finally got around to celebrating it this past weekend. We had a small group of family over for pizza and cake and just enjoyed celebrating our second little guy who somehow managed to let another year of his life pass by. It's moving too fast, I tell ya. We sure do love our Rudy boy and are so thankful for his sweet, gentle soul. What a blessing that God has entrusted to us!

We didn't do too much on the actual day of Rudy's birthday. Mark took him for his annual "special morning with Dada" to go get a donut, go to the book store, and go to the sports store. When he woke up from his nap there was a special cookie bouquet waiting for him from Uncle Brian and Aunt Cristi! Those cookies are so huge, all it took was about a third of a cookie cut in to little bites to satisfy him.

At his little party, pizza was enjoyed by everyone. I would have tried to make a little more effort with the menu, but this was on the same day that Mark and I spent HOURS painting and finishing up the house before it went on the market.

After singing "Happy Birthday" to Rudy, he insisted on watching the playback from our HD video camera on the big TV. Both of those guys are fascinated with seeing themselves in action!

Mama and Kolbe enjoying the party.

Checking out a new puzzle from Uncle Mikey and Aunt Casey with Kolbe, Shelby, and Kinsey.

Enjoying a little chips and hot sauce. Is it crazy that both of our boys LOVE hot sauce!?!

Reading one of their favorite books, The Giving Tree, with Papa Jeep. I can't wait till their old enough to fully understand that book!

Enjoying some pizza at the kiddie table!

Aunt Mandi made him a sweet "2" shirt. Rudy's favorite gift of the night was the sweet fire truck that Pinke and Pa sent him. In Love!

"Happy Birthday to Ru..."

Look at that face! He was so tickled!

G-ma brought a set of cool cars that they had fun racing down the coffee table with Mr. Joe!

Even Baby John got in on the festivities despite his little cold. :(

One of Mama's favorite gifts of the night was the art work that Aunt Abby made for him. The one on the left is from Kolbe's birthday and has the words to the Our Father on it. Rudy's has the words to the Hail Mary and both are surrounded by pictures of their first years of life. The big letters throughout spell our their names. So cute and creative!!!

And Dada had to end the evening by finally tearing up and replacing the broken tile by our family room. I think he was a little intimidated at first but really enjoyed doing it!

TTT: Season 2, Episode 7

1. Like I wrote about last week, the whole "moving nine hours away" is quite a tough pill to swallow. Luckily, I've had the whole "getting our house ready to go on the market" to keep me distracted. Ack! I'm exhausted! Typically I love a good home improvement project. It's just that I usually tackle them one at a time and not all at once. Thank goodness for good friends. On Friday afternoon and Saturday morning, we were lucky enough to have people available to watch the boys so Mark and I could attack our to-do list full on. My knees were a lovely shade of brownish-purple after crawling around for five hours on the tile floors painting all the woodwork we have in our entryway and hallway. I don't want to be too picky, but man, it would be marvelous if our next house came pre-painted. I could easily go another ten years or so without picking up another paintbrush.

Ok. I know that's a bit much. 'Cause Lord knows that when we do get a new home, I'm going to have tons and tons of ideas floating through my mind for how to decorate it and of course, paint must be included. (Dear sweet father...yes, that's that's you, Mark K. Hefferly, that I'm talking to...surely you won't let your bound to be largely pregnant daughter do all that painting alone...)

Where was I? Oh yeah. This house. I must say, I've never seen it look so lovely. I've always been emotionally attached to this place. It's the first home I ever bought. It's where our family began. The only home Kolbe and Rudy have ever known. I can say with one hundred percent certainty that I'll cry when I lock the door and drive away for the last time. But I'm glad we made her look pretty for the next owner. And I hope they love her just as much as we have.

She offically went on the market on Tuesday afternoon and has already had two showings. Hopefully that means that she'll sell quickly, but we'll see. I'm not foolish enough to think that selling a house is easy these days. Say prayers for us!

2. In the midst of all the home improvements, meetings with the realtors, photo sessions for our house, cleaning, cleaning and more cleaning, escaping while people came to look...little Rudy Markie, the birthday boy, had his two year check-up. Wouldn't you know, our little fella is now thirty-four-and-a-half inches tall and weighs twenty-seven pounds! What's more shocking for us is that he's directly at the fiftieth percentile for both categories. I suppose we have gotten so used to seeing Kolbe struggle to even make the chart that it catches us off guard every time we're told that Rudy is not short. Not skinny. Not tiny. Just right down the middle of the road with his cute little football player body. With Dada being on the shorter side, it was easy to assume that all of our kiddos would be short, but hey, I'm five-seven! I'm pretty sure that's on the taller side of things for a girl. We definitely aren't going to have any Uncle Mikeys (6'3") in our crew, but I guess fifty percent isn't too much to ask for!

Oh, and at his appointment we also found out that he has an ear infection. Doh! Yes, I picked up my certificate for Parent of the Year afterward. This was after saying that I had no concerns, no problems, etc. In my own defense, both of the boys had that nasty runny nose/cough type thing going on for about a week. And it really seemed to clear up. But I suppose his little ear decided to hang on to it a bit. No fever. Not particularly fussy. Oh well. Poor little Roo. Soon we'll be back to our regularly scheduled lives (I hope.) and I'll try not to miss things like ear infections.

3. On to the other child. We've got a situation brewing.

Let me just start by professing my love for nap time. I love nap time. It's my one to two hours each day where I can relax and collect myself. It's usually by noon when I'm near breaking point and ready to snap. But that lovely little break just brings me back to my neutral state and ready for the afternoon. Not to mention that it's my time to work on my little sewing business. In fact, I think throwing myself into my sewing is exactly what helps me mellow out. Nap time makes me a better mom for the boys. I need it.

But apparently Kolbe doesn't think that he does anymore. In fact, yesterday he decided to forego his nap all together. Mark and I shrugged and assumed that he would just go to bed early. Nope. He carried on and on and on.

Can I just say that this is unacceptable!?! Uh, hello!!! I'm fixing to have another baby! I need a break! From you, Kolbe Alexander! I love you enough to know that I need a break from you at least once a day. Really, I'll be a better mama for you because of it.

And before all of the advice and suggestions are thrown my way, yes, I know I can inforce a quiet time. Or make him lay in his bed and "rest." The problem right now is, he shares a room with Rudy. So when Rudy is sleeping and Kolbe is in there doing shenanigans, neither one ends up sleeping. And if he does his "quiet time" in any other room in the house, it limits what I can do during my quiet time! Would it be greedy to hope for a game room in our new house!?! You know, some place that I could put the little wild man so he can have quiet time without waking Rudy (or the new baby for that matter) or interfering with my completely necessary break? A mom can only dream.

TTT: Season 2, Episode 6

1. Oh so much going on right now. Overwhelmingly much. In fact, my mind is just about exhausted from thinking about it all and my body feels the same way from responding to it all.

Mark and I made the decision this past weekend to accept the job offer he received from the neurosurgery group down in Houston.

So it's official; we're moving.

To be fair, I do have to say that it is a wonderful job offer with a great group of doctors and PAs at a thriving practice that just so happens to be very near my parents in The Woodlands. Anyone would jump at the opportunity. But to be honest, I don't think we were ever planning on moving that far away. But at this point, what it comes down to is we need a job. We're adults. With three children. It's not like we just got out of college and we're bumming off our parents until we feel like mustering up the motivation to go get a real job. This is serious business here and our family depends on it. With all that goes in to accepting a job in the medical field (licensing, contracts, privileges, numbers...all that random stuff that I don't know much about) it's not like Mark can just accept a job and start tomorrow. It's quite the lengthy process and if we didn't go ahead and pull the trigger now, we would have gotten ourselves to the point where we'd run out of funds and be in a really bad way. So it was time to just muster up the courage and do it.

I've moved before. (Of course I have. I'm an Air Force kid.) So that "how in the world can this possibly work out? how could we possibly just start over?" type feeling comes to mind but I know the answer to it. It really will all be ok. Mark, on the other hand, has lived in Lubbock his whole life. Aside from the year and a half he quasi-lived in Midland for PA school. So for him it's even more overwhelming. Oh yeah, in addition to the whole starting-a-new-job thing.

And then there's the thought of leaving all of our friends and family.

Heartbreaking. Really, really heartbreaking.

You set up this whole life for yourself and can picture yourself doing certain things with certain people and just growing old in your own little world. And then to think of leaving that world and trying to start over in a new one...it's just scary. And sad. Trying to find new friends. And missing our old ones. Really, no one can replace the ones we love here in Lubbock. And we'll never try to replace them. And again to be honest, I'm really quite thankful that we actually have family here in Lubbock. I grew up never being very close to my dad's side of the family and Mark grew up hardly knowing his dad's side of the family at all. And I've always said since day one that I will not let that happen with my kids.

And I mean it with my whole heart.

Kolbe and Rudy have spent the first couple of years seeing their paternal grandparents typically once a week or every two weeks. Obviously, that will no longer be realistic, but I have my heart set on making sure that it doesn't ever turn in to a once-a-year type thing. So we will always be coming back. As long as they are here, we will be back. With the added blessing of getting to see our friends too. And Lord willing, they (family and friends) will be willing to come see us too. I was just telling Mark the other night that I look forward to times like when his parents come down to visit and we get to take them to an Astros game or the zoo or something else fun. Where the boys' memories with their grandparents will be something special...and not just "going over to G-ma's because Mom and Dad had a dinner they had to attend." And getting to come up to Lubbock for Christmases. Or summer vacation. Heck, Lubbock was the site of pretty much all of my summer vacations as a kid! God knows as an Air Force kid I never lived in the same city as my grandparents!

Anyway, I could and probably should have just written an entire post about this whole moving thing. It's on my mind pretty much 24/7 now-a-days and is what our world is revolving around right now. Getting our house ready to sell, getting it on the market, hoping the right buyer comes along, finding movers to move us, finding a new house, figuring out how all of these things are going to line up with Mark starting his new job...oh, and that whole thing of being roughly halfway through my pregnancy. It's daunting, I tell ya. The whole thing. Like I've said before when just thinking about the prospect of it: for every happy, there's a sad. For every scary, there's an exciting. For every broken heart, there's a brand new start. For every up-ahead, there's something behind. How do you see both and feel ok with your decision?

2. Guess what today is? February 10th. The second anniversary of the second time I fell in love at first sight. On this morning two years ago, I contemplated just how I'd be able to love someone as much as I loved my fifteen-month-and-one-day old little baby. And a little after noon on that day I learned just how easy it would be. The moment five pound, eleven ounce Reagan Mark was born is, to this day, one of the sweetest, purest moments of my whole life. One of the best flooding of emotions I've ever experienced. And falling in love with him over the past two years has been nothing shy of spectacular. So this morning, the things I love the most are that he still lets me cuddle him. Still lets me kiss on him. Still melts my heart with his smile. Still is a mama's boy. So sweet. So curious. So endearing.

Honestly, if it weren't for his paci-obsession, he'd be the world's most perfect child.

Just kidding, little fella. You are perfect--paci and all.

3. Like I mentioned earlier, as of tomorrow, I've reached my halfway point in my third pregnancy. Numero Tres will be a whopping eighteen weeks old. Yes, I know. The halfway point is twenty weeks. But with my previous two thirty-six week pregnancies, eighteen weeks means I have just eighteen weeks to go till I've reached that point.

You know, the one where I better be ready for anything to happen. Like wake up in the morning with my face so swollen that it's hard to open my eyes. Considering I feel no different, blood pressure does the strangest things to my body. I keep praying that maybe, just maybe, I'll make it to at least thirty-seven weeks this time. But really, I won't be sad this time if I don't. I do my best and that's all I can ask of myself. Besides, my two thirty-six weekers did fabulous. And, heck, my body sure thanks me for skipping out on that whole last month!

But overall, this pregnancy is flying by. Could I really be halfway there already? Where is time going? Actually, I know the answer to that, and it's not exactly going to slow down any time soon. I suppose my body changes won't either. So far, I'm still sitting at just two pounds of weight gain and very little bodily changes, but there finally is a noticeable baby bump hiding under my layers of winter clothing. (ok...I know it's pretty much only noticeable to me...) I like to think that instead of gaining weight, the baby's umbilical cord continues on past the other side of the placenta and has a vacuum attachment that is sucking all that "extra" off my thighs that I've wanted to get rid of. Now wouldn't that be a medical miracle! Right now it's just kind of that awkward transition phase where the normal "skinny" clothes are too snug but maternity clothes look absolutely ridiculous. Where "baby bump" looks and can be more easily seen by the naked eye as "muffin top." So, in that regard, I really haven't minded the sub-zero temperatures around here. A good excuse to leave that button undone and throw on a comfy sweatshirt. And really, I can't complain about my little muffin top right now...it's starting to have more and more movement inside of it... which is never a bad thing.

Snow Days

Like a good chunk of Texas residents, we spent most of this past week with an inch or two of snow coating our yard (and streets!). For us, the snow started on Monday night and didn't melt until Friday while we endured the average temps of about 9 degrees with windchills often below -15. It wouldn't be Lubbock without the wind, right!?! G-ma came over one afternoon and was brave enough to take the boys in the backyard for a few minutes. Better her than me! We didn't do much more snow playing other than this one day because the boys have been sick, sick, sick. Par for the course for this time of year. At least they got to enjoy it for a little bit!

Happy Winter-time to everybody!

TTT: Season 2, Episode 5

1. It's been a crazy busy week for The Asmussens. Involving a hospital visit (for my ribs), a flight back to Lubbock, a job interview in Dallas, a sonogram, two other doctors appointments (for me), an evening of 103 degree temps (for Kolbe), a doctors visit for him (involving barfing during a throat swabbing), and plenty of snow and near zero temperatures. We like to keep it interesting. But the best part of all during all of these shenanigans was seeing this guy's little face:

Uncle Andy says he's destined to be a priest...already making the sign of the cross!

Actually he spent most of the sonogram trying to get his thumb into his mouth, but I'll hold on the thought that he might be a priest some day.

To most of you, this probably looks like a bunch of blurs on the screen. But to a woman who is on sonogram #25 or so  (for real) of all boy babies, I knew what this was without the tech having to tell me.

Profile shots are my fave. Pretty amazing, huh?

Is it just me or do those 3D sonograms make babies look so much more real!?! I swear he looked like a little squirt just a month ago...and looked so much more like a real person on Monday. I've said all along that I knew he was a boy. Not because I feel the same as with my other pregnancies or have progressed the same. 'Cause I haven't. It's been slightly different. I just knew. And sure enough, I was right! I have to admit, I've been kind of sad at the number of times I've been asked if I was "disappointed" when I found out that it was another boy. Honestly, to Mark and me, it's not another boy. It's another baby. Another child. And we're happy that God has blessed us with him. Not to mention the fact that we have enough boy stuff to raise an entire football team and enough experience to get him through at least his first three years of life! How could I be disappointed when God has given us the grace to raise two boys so far and sees us fit to raise another? How could I be disappointed when I've been blessed to be able to have babies and so many others haven't? And don't you know I had four brothers to love on me growing up (and I'm pretty sure they haven't stopped!) and now I'll have four fellas to love on me in our very home. What can I say? I'm a very blessed girl! We haven't picked a name yet for this little guy but we know that he'll fit right in with our little family. He's got two big brothers that can't wait to get their hands on him!

2. Which brings me to a great conversation that I had with Kolbe this week. He is so thrilled that he's going to be a big brother again soon. At first he began with insisting that he wants to give his baby a bath...without mama's help. He took it to another level on Monday after we got home from the sonogram and he knew for sure that he was now having a brother. My good friend, Melanie, watched the boys while I was at my appointments. She has two precious little girls that are right around Kolbe and Rudy's ages and also keeps a baby boy during the day for a friend of hers. The conversation when we got home went a little like this:

Me: Are you excited it's going to be three brothers now?
Kolbe: Mama, Miss Melny has two girls, Molly, Ellie, and one boy baby too.
Me: Kolbe, that boy baby is not Miss Melanie's baby. She just watches him during the day.
Kolbe: Where's that boy baby's mama?
Me: Well, his mama goes to work. She takes Zach over to Miss Melanie's house in the morning and then she goes to work and then she comes and picks up Zach after she gets off of work. Miss Melanie just takes care of him during the day while his mama is at work.
Kolbe: Mama, when our baby gets here, then I want you to be a dada and go to work and me and Rudy will stay home and take care of our baby all by our elfs.
Me: Oh really! You think you could do that? What would mama do?
Kolbe: You would go be a dada and go to work. Me and Rudy will watch the baby.
Me: Ok, well we'll have to talk to Dada about that one.

SO entertaining how his mind works. How he's starting to perceive things. I love his eagerness to take care of his new brother. His desire to be responsible. I love that he perceives himself as someone capable of doing all that caring for a baby entails. And I find his perception of me "being a dada" in order to be able to go to work fascinating. Apparently he hasn't caught on that being a dada is something only a male can do. I guess right now he knows that he has a dada and he has a mama and his dada is the one who goes to work. And if I went to work, well then I'd have to be a dada too. So smart and clever, yet so much ahead of him to learn at the same time. He makes a fantastic biggest brother.

3. I figured out the cleverest little trick yesterday that I'm just too excited about. For months I've been trying to figure out a way to get hairspray off the tile floor in our bathroom. Let me start by saying that I'm admittedly a hairspray fanatic. No, I don't have huge Texas hair. But I have thin hair. Lots and lots of thin hair. And the only way to thicken it up (and sometimes to reduce static) is to give it a good coating of hairspray. Most people use hairspray to hold their 'do in place. I do this sometimes. But usually, I just spray a good coating on and then literally brush it out. You know, to distribute it properly and thicken it all up. So needless to say, plenty of hairspray has accumulated on my floor over the past few years. And when I clean the bathroom, I often make the mistake of of attempting to mop the floor. Instead of getting them spic and span, I end up with a sticky mess. So usually I just avoid mopping all together. And here we are, nearly six years later and these tiles aren't even the same color as the tiles in the other bathroom. Even though they're supposed to be. But a while back Mark accidentally left his glasses on the bathroom counter during one of my spraying sessions. Needless to say, his glasses got a thick coating of hairspray and he wasn't too happy. We had some random alcohol swabs sitting on the counter (from God only knows what) so I ripped one open and cleaned the glasses. Sure enough, the hairspray came right off with little to no effort. So last night, I decided to get my Cinderella on. No, not the part where she dresses up in a ball gown and gets swept off of her feet. The part where she's on her hands and knees with a scrub brush and a bucket of water. Oh, and a monster-sized bottle of rubbing alcohol too. And wouldn't you know it, tile by tile, I poured a little alcohol on, scrubbed it with my little brush and had a spotless floor in less than thirty minutes. Some of you are probably rolling your eyes thinking duh! Did she seriously not know that rubbing alcohol removes all kinds of stuff!?! Seriously. I didn't. But I'm thrilled that I figured it out! I had tried all kinds of stuff before to no avail and was wondering if I'd just have to rip the whole floor up and re-tile it! So pumped! And also cringing that something so domestically boring could excite me so much. Good grief!