Crummy Crumbs

I was a crap roommate. I wasn't much for sharing. I had to be told when it was my turn to buy stuff, to clean stuff, to trash stuff. If a light bulb went out, I wasn't in a hurry to change it. It was never out of spite or malice. You could call it spoiled, you could call it lazy. My husband called it, "a travesty." It took me a while to get the hang of things when I was first co-habitating with the father of my children.  With someone coming to clean the apartment twice a month (I'm aware of how lucky I am for this),  I was not one for dusting in between shifts. I admit it. I TIDY. I don't clean. But since becoming a mother, I have had to learn to take better care by using the occasional Lysol product. If I don't take time to pamper our home a bit, our sweet little apartment becomes a rave for roaches. Vacuums are my friends and I can never buy enough paper towels. I find myself scrubbing the counters and washing the floors without a problem. But one thing I just can't get the hang of, I totally don't understand. It doesn't matter how hard I scrub or how many times a day I do it. 2 things will remain a mystery to me.

1. THE MAGNETIC FORCE ATTRACTING FOOD AND CRUMBS INSIDE THE CREVICES OF MY CHILD'S HIGH CHAIR, MAKING IT THE MOST DISGUSTING THING ON THE PLANET.
2. WHY CAN'T I KEEP THE FOOD OFF MY CHILD'S FACE, EVEN AFTER WIPING IT OFF? IT'S GONE ONE MINUTE, BUT BACK THE NEXT.

Let's discuss the high chair situation. It's amazing, really. I could scrub that thing until my knuckles bleed and it still won't be clean. I have found incredible morsels stuck in the cracks of my monkey's chair. A raisin smeared with avocado and applesauce, followed by cookie doused in marinara. Where does it all come from?? I mean, my child can't miss his mouth that much, can he?
Apparently, so.
We've gotten to where we have to actually hose down the high chair with the garden hose. We are not opposed to using this method to clean the boys, either. I'm at a loss with them, too. I wipe their sweet cheeks with a paper towel or a wash cloth. Still, the jelly from the morning toast re-appears before afternoon lunch. I have even wiped just a little too hard leaving a nice rouge and STILL...it's back.
And after a popsicle, forget about it.
We were having dinner poolside with relatives one night and Conley's uncle was amazed that I could just leave the pasta sauce stain on Conley's face.
My response..
"What? We are at a pool, right? It will wash off, eventually. And if the chlorine is unsuccessful, we will attempt to remove it at bath time and if that doesn't work, well then, thank God he's cute, right?!"

I often wonder if this is my bad roommate karma coming to get me.

I never scrubbed the cracks or removed the stains as a single girl in LA.
As a married mother of two in NYC,  I have never known crumbs this intimately.

But these crumbs mock me. They taunt me. "You will never get rid of us. You will feel like you are failing as a mother because we will always come back. Always."

I know it sounds dramatic, but my battle with the cracker and cookie crumbs is one I have to gear up to face every day. I arm myself with paper towels and sponges every morning, hoping that the morsels I removed the night before have not magically appeared to mock me again. I must focus on my child's sparkly eyes, not his sticky chin.
I look forward to a day when I am not responsible for the stains on their faces or the crumbs in their chairs.

Oh, who am I kidding?

They are adorably messy and in a time in the not-so-distant future, I will long for the days when I got to look into those cherub faces as I wiped them clean. Or the taste of grape jelly after a smooch on the cheek.

So go on crumbs, mock away. And someday when you think you are lost forever in the recesses in the high chair...BAM...you will be mine.