Bed and Butter

She had a rash.  She was tired. She was miserable. She wanted to sleep but couldn’t. 

Our other three children were also in need.   One was emotionally distraught over an upcoming jog-a-thon, another was not happy with  her bedtime attire, and our young son was attempting to suplex anyone that crossed his path.

When all offspring are in need at once, I find the triage approach to be helpful.  The rash was clearly the most  life-threatening issue, followed by the suplexing toddler and the jog-a-thon situation . The pajama problem would be dealt with last if at all. So, with a plan in place, I headed to the rash victim’s room. I applied a salve to the affected region, all the while cursing the bargain Easter dress whose lace was likely to blame. Next, I dealt with the baby wrestler. A bottle did the trick. It kept his hands busy and his mouth closed.  Problem solved. Back to the rash. Her anguish was untouched by the salve, so I hit up the freezer for the trusty, all powerful ice pack.  Unfortunately, we had no pack, just ice.  Chaylee, the afflicted one, loves to eat ice, so I searched for some frozen vegetables to use instead.  None were sealed.  The alternative solution? Frozen butter. We had loads of it and she hates butter, so there would be no danger of her ingesting the cure. I said a prayer, kissed her goodnight  and promised to pick up the butter after dealing with the jog-a-thon problem–by then she would surely be asleep.

I am not sure what woke me. Perhaps my maternal alert system picked up a needy presence in the room. Or maybe it was the rhythmic thud of a child flying up the stairs at mind boggling speed to avoid the nothing behind them.  I can’t be sure, but when I opened my eyes she was 6 inches away from me, standing sternly by my bedside. 

“What is it honey? Did you have a bad dream?”

“No,” she replied indignantly.”I’m covered in butter!”

As my eyes adjusted to the subtle light from the alarm clock,  I could see that she was indeed glistening. It was 2am. She had been rolling around on two sticks of butter for hours, slowly melting them with her body heat until she was fully glazed like a self basting turkey.  

I took her to the bathroom as she cried. “I hate butter!!!!” 

I attempted some fun word play to lighten the mood and hide my shame. 

“Nothing like a little bed and butter.”

No laughter, just tears.

“You’ll feel butter in the morning,” I quipped.

More tears.

After a thorough scrub down with warm rags and barrage of hugs and apologies, she was back to sleep — in our bed of course. Hers was smothered in butter. At least the rash was gone.

Poll: What food would you rather not find yourself sleeping in or on?

Family Fun Fact:  Mike slept through this debacle. He learned of the incident by looking for his favorite pillow in Chaylee’s room. Didn’t see that one coming did ya Mikey?

In other news:  This is my first blog attempt since departing my beloved Australia.  It feels weird. But, I needed to get this story off my chest, and I thought it might help other mothers feel butter about themselves.




18 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Jane
    Apr 29, 2014 @ 08:01:18

    Hilarious! We miss your antics!


  2. Anonymous
    Apr 29, 2014 @ 12:10:01

    Fab Heather…keep them coming. You’re missed down under.x


  3. Revelations in Writing
    Apr 29, 2014 @ 12:36:32

    Please keep writing!!!! 🙂


  4. Anonymous
    Apr 29, 2014 @ 13:01:40

    More more more! Thank you for starting my day with a big laugh.


  5. Nancy Bellerud
    Apr 29, 2014 @ 13:03:25

    More more more! Thank you for starting my day with a big laugh.


  6. haleythemeier
    Apr 29, 2014 @ 14:14:15

    Oh, how I missed your storytelling! Thank you!! What an adventure!


  7. Debbie DiPietro
    Apr 29, 2014 @ 14:35:30

    Love it. Love you.

    Sent from my iPhone


  8. Anonymous
    Apr 29, 2014 @ 16:13:01

    I’m DYING. You’re the best blogger EVER!… Even butter than before! Love.


  9. Lucas J. Draeger
    Apr 29, 2014 @ 17:06:47

    You butter keep the stories coming.
    Hmmm, corny word play from you = hilarious. Me? Just corny.
    How DO you do it?


  10. Carolee Mayne
    Apr 29, 2014 @ 18:55:49

    you butter believe all these blogger fans and churn out a few more…. how bout one concerning your firstborn son and a dozen sliders?


  11. opendoorphotos
    Apr 29, 2014 @ 19:32:09

    AMAZING!!!!!!!! BUTTER THAN ANYTHING!!! You ARE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMAZING And sooooooooo talented and can you write a book? Date: Tue, 29 Apr 2014 06:53:27 +0000 To:


  12. Cathie Jensen
    Apr 29, 2014 @ 19:34:06

    Made my day! Thanks for sharing….still smiling!


  13. haley
    Apr 29, 2014 @ 19:45:01

    I had already heard the story twice and I still laughed out loud so hard my kids looked at me like I was nutters. YOU! I love you.


  14. brandon schreib
    Apr 29, 2014 @ 23:27:33

    Butt-er is a well known and liberally applied keegle product amongst the bicycling community. Butt, to assnwer your question, frozen peas. We have a one pound, five year old, frost-bitten bag of it in the freezer. And thanks to your ju jitsu toddler, ninja leaping up the stares away from The Nothing, I have to hunt down my Never Ending Story VHS, dust off the VCR, and show it my kids. Maybe they’ll stop singing Let It Go and do something creative like building a paper mache Atreu-worthy flying mammal dragon.


  15. Abby Albright
    Apr 29, 2014 @ 23:53:40

    I was so happy when I opened my email and saw a new blog notification from you. Like a kid on Christmas!
    You may not be Down Under anymore but your stories are still just as epic and hilarious. Keep em comin!


  16. Anonymous
    Apr 30, 2014 @ 04:29:37

    Hahahaha! Well done! More please! I love you!


  17. tanicah
    Apr 25, 2015 @ 21:56:03

    This is amazing. I recently started blogging and now I feel bad about myself because you are clearly superior.


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