"Momma," she shouted as we stood in line at Hellmart, "I know exactly what we'll do! We'll give each other makeovers and have a pageant." I knew that letting her watch the Miss America pageant would come back to bit me in the butt.
After we put away the groceries (and by we, I mean not Daughter 2), she grabbed my make up and sat across from me on the couch. "So tell me, Miss Oklahoma," she said as she brushed blush on my chubby cheeks, "What's your talent?"
I explained that my talent was being able to buy $150 worth of groceries in a week and still have nothing to eat in the house. She commented, "Very nice."
Clearly, she was listening about as well as the TLC execs when America says, "Honey Boo Boo is Too Too Stupid."
"The look I'm going for, Miss Oklahoma," she said as she dug in my make-up bag, "is simple and beautiful and complex and amazing." Then she pulled out a bright red lipstick and asked me to make a duck face. She handed me a tissue and asked me to dab. Then she applied more. Asked me to dab again. Then added more lipstick but quickly put on the cap and said, "Oh well," before pulling out my eye liner.
"Do you want your eyes to pop?" she asked, "Or do you want them them be mysterious?"
I furrowed my brow and said, "I don't know."
"Very good. The look I'm going for here is beautiful. Pretty and awesome," she said and pulled the cap off the liner. She began with my right eye, then moved to my left eye, then sneezed and I swear she muttered, "Damn." She took a tissue and began wiping off my nose. Go ahead. Read it again. I said my nose.
She shrugged and took to my eyes again. A smart momma would've stopped the make up artist and fixed whatever was on her face. But, you and I both know that I've never claimed to be smart. Daughter 2 gently touched the liner to my eye and then, with all her might, attempted to press it clear through my eye lid. When I pulled my head back, barely keeping my language in check, Daughter 2 was anticipating my move and pressed harder into my eye. I shook my head side to side, at which time, I was able to break contact with the eye-torture stick.
"Maybe, Momma, the look we're going for is more like ... um ... clown, or ... um ... maybe crazy. Yeah. Certainly crazy."
Personally, if that was the look she was going for, I think she nailed it. The things we do for quality time with our kids.
