Goop on My Hands

I have more than just goop on my hands. I have all sorts of dirt and tiny pieces of hair that are trapped in the goop. And it really isn't on my hands so much as on my fingernails. J's nails look almost nice and freshly painted right now, and I look like I've been living in the forest. I should say that 3/4 of J's nails look nice, because she was counting on K finishing her other hand for her, and then small children happened. But I got goop on my hands in this way:
I was sitting on the front step with Pax and J quartering brussel sprouts and watching the kids play when we noticed that there definitely were birds flying in and out of a missing corner cap in our aluminum siding. I don't know what kind of birds they were, but the same type are living in the currently vacant house next door to us and sadly neglected inhabited house across the street. So I got my ladder out.
It's dangerous to show Owen the ladder, because it reminds him that he is an expert climber. Or at least, he thinks he is. Last night at the playground he attempted to go up the rock wall by himself multiple times. He's already scaled ladders in the garage when left unattended.
But it wasn't Owen that stood at the base of my ladder. It was Abby, while O held it steady. She talked about her dollies, Jasmine and Snow White. It was a very different sort of conversation than what I'm used to with James.
I tacked the missing corner cap back on and managed to get the other loose pieces secure again, but there was still a big gap under one of the pieces. A bird flew into it while I was off the ladder. I went down to the basement and pulled out the tube of Great Stuff (actual name) that's been sitting next to our laundry detergent for over a year. The bottle wasn't sealed shut, and I managed to get it into the siding crack. (And of course, all over everything else, including my hands.)

And that's why I have goop on my hands.