If you don't have a sense of humor, and a strong constitution, you definitely shouldn't live like this.
Bring it on, Wednesday.
6:00 am- Puke blankets are in the laundry room awaiting a better time of day to be dealt with. Three-year-old is dressed in my husband's giant purple Phoenix Suns hoodie from junior high and a Pull-Up because I don't want to dig out clean clothes and risk waking the baby. We spread a towel on my husband's side of the bed, (I guess I'm going in early, he says), and I snuggle down with my little guy. I'm not sleepy any more, but I'm not ready to start the day. He starts coughing and I run across the room to grab the popcorn bowl (because half of my bedroom is a kitchen. No joke. It used to be a basement apartment and now my bed is where a kitchen table used to be. I sometimes pretend I am living in a tiny studio apartment in NYC, just to keep it fun.), and arrive just in time to catch another round of the pukes.
7:00 am- Three-year-old is now wearing an oversized University of Utah hoodie because the Phoenix Suns one got puked on. He has been asking for breakfast for 20 minutes, and I remember I told my oldest that I'd make pancakes for breakfast. Plus, I've got to make the husband's lunch. Back upstairs we head to the kitchen to make pancakes. I remember that I'm starting a hard core dairy free month to see if it will help with my stomach issues. Guess I won't eat one of those chocolate chip cookies I left out last night! Bummer. Double bummer because my pancakes are killer and full of milk! -sigh- Good news though! Husband's lunch is already made from yesterday.
7:30 am- Three-year-old heads to the bathroom, (win), but returns to the table refusing to believe that there is already syrup on his pancakes because he can't see it. No amount of reasoning helps. I wake up oldest child so she can hop into the shower. The pancakes are all perfectly golden. No burned ones this time! I settle for peanut butter toast and a banana. (At least I don't have a gluten intolerance. I had a test done.)
7:45- Three-year-old finally tastes pancake and eats about 4 bites before putting his plate in the sink. At least he cleared his dishes! Kindergartner wakes up and asks for cereal. I start insisting that she eats a pancake since I made them fresh, but then remember I didn't like pancakes until I was 30. She gets Fruity Cheerios. Miss G wakes up, slightly grumpy, her face hidden behind a wall of hair and goobers. Lovely. I clear that up and serve her a pancake. She refuses it, and instead tries to talk to three-year-old in her 16-month-old language. Guy just shouts back, "I'm not Uhhn!" She's not calling you that. She's just trying to say good morning. "I don't want to say good morning!! AHHH!"
8:00 am- Scriptures are read, almost. Kindergartner is reading the last verse aloud, which is great because she is sounding everything out, but it takes for.ev.er. She's happy though and goes to get dressed. I change and dress Miss G. I set Guy up on the couch with a towel, a bowl for the spits, and Star Wars to watch. I feel a little bit guilty about that, but this is a sick day so we are all about survival.
8:17 am- Kindergartner is still not dressed! I remind her it is time to go and she scampers off to try again. Oldest child is pretty responsible, making her bed, gathering her lunch, and watching Star Wars, thinking I can't see her doing it. I convince Guy to put on some pants so we can take the girls to school.
8:25 am- I brush my teeth and rubber band my braces shut. I put on some jeans because I'm not getting to the gym today. We load up to go to school. Miss G is looking put together, apart from her hair. Kindergartner is wearing a black and pink polka dot maxi skirt with a faded, pink and gray starred long sleeve shirt. And tennis shoes. Oldest child is wearing an orange floral shirt that my mom meant to hand down to me, but Child like it, tucked in, tennis shoes, a side ponytail, and flared jeans that look like she's ready to cross a river. She doesn't care, so I decide not too as well. You just rock that look, my girl! As I load everyone into the car, I note that I did not brush Kindergartner's hair, and she's got long, tangled hair. Looking a bit homeless, we successfully navigate the school drop-off, and I head home with the two littles.
8:50 am- Star Wars is back on. I wonder what I am going to do today. This is two days in a row I've had to miss the gym, and my brain is feeling bad about it. What is the point of all of this? The smelly bedding is still downstairs, but I'm not ready for it yet. I'm getting bummed out about the dairy-free decision, mostly because I don't know how I'm going to bake! If this is permanent, what will I do? Small, overwhelming problems. Miss G needs some cereal, and a tissue.
9:07 am- Start researching IBS and non-dairy stuff. It is an IBS, PMS, cloudy inversion air, winter day with a spoonful of depression coming on! I get a text from a friend saying that I looked "beautiful" on Sunday. Clouds ease a bit, Isn't it amazing what a few kind words can do? I'm so grateful for generous thoughts and people who act on them! Things are looking up. Bring it, Wednesday!
9:45 am- Fruity Cheerios are all over the floor. Guy is on the second (or fifth) Star Wars, and I figure I'll write a blog post. I'm about to write about this Citrus Pound Cake I created, when I remember I'm doing a Wednesday Friendsday series, and it is Wednesday. While the computer loads I call this Irish Dance Studio I found last night. I can't afford it yet, but we really want to put Kindergartner in Irish Dance. I call and the owner answers and starts talking in an Irish or Scottish accent so thick I have to really concentrate on what he's saying. I feel a little starstruck! Send a text to playgroup saying Guy won't be there. Bummer, because I was going to take the car in to get it inspected this morning during playgroup. Set up my "workstation" at the kitchen table with Miss G sitting beside me.
10:15 am- I'm not really hungry, but I keep thinking about food that I can't have, so I eat another slice of PB toast. I start working on the blog post- a recipe from my neighbor for the best Sloppy Joes. I'm so cold too! I'm drinking warm water like it is going out of style. Weird, I know, but it does the job of hot chocolate when you can't drink hot chocolate. Miss G is smelling a little ripe, so I go check it out. Plus, I think she may have spit a bit of Fruity Cheerios up, too.
10:17 am- What?!! I go to change what I think is the standard #2 messy bum and am greeted with a triple-dog-dare-you blow out! I'm talking pull down the leggings and get a handful of under-the-fingernails excrement. Gah! And gah again! I reach for a towel, mounds of wipes, and yell for Guy to bring me the garbage can. (Of course, it has no liner in it because someone, me, was too lazy to put one in last time.) 3, 4, 8 wipes and a new outfit later, the crisis is contained without damage to the carpet.
10:30 am- I start thinking about this day. I'm grateful I didn't start the laundry yet or bleach the bathtub, because now I've got poop clothes to put in it. Miss G has on a red velvet hoodie with gold stars and matching red pants. It is getting too small, and with the little hood on she reminds me of that episode of "The Office" where Michael has that charity auction in the warehouse and Kelly offers to teach everyone the dance to some rap song with the plan to make Ryan jealous. Random, but Kelly wears a velvet hoodie outfit in that episode too. Makes me smile. Miss G and Guy start fighting over a Pokeman card. Where did that even come from? He trades her for a wolf postcard from Yellowstone. I take a bathroom break.
10:50 am- I come back from the bathroom break to this chaos! Seriously, my floor did not look like this 5 minutes ago! I decide to start taking pictures. I follow the tracks to find Miss G and Guy playing nicely. This deserves documentation! Then they follow me into the kitchen
. Things are good, until Guy hits G in the face. Then she cries, but still wants to say "Cheese" for the camera. Life is tough when you're little.
11:35 am- Miss G is going down for a nap. We're all ready for that. She goes down without a fight, which a nice change because she's been getting molars in for like, a month! Guy eats 2 chicken nuggets and calls it quits. He asks to take a rest on my bed. I guess he's still not feeling well. I close the blinds in my kitchen/bedroom, tuck him in, and sneak out. Maybe he'll go to sleep, or maybe he'll play with my husband's retainers on the nightstand. It is a gamble.
11:50 am- Kindergartner comes home. Guy and G are really asleep! I decide write about this morning and I feel better. It isn't even noon! I start typing while she decides on lunch. Tuna sandwich it is. I go to put away the ketchup from Guy's lunch, thinking the cap was on the bottle. What is that red stuff all over the refrigerator? Oh, that's just part of the half a bottle of ketchup you squirted all over the floor...and fridge. Nice. But, Kindergartner is happy. Her hair is no longer wild because her teacher braided it and secured it with a rubber band at school. And I'm grateful. And she's happy. She tells me about her day, and how silly she was in the carpool on the way home. I have to remind her that the other kids are napping, which she obliges with a smile.
This is real life, in all its wonder. And I'm okay! How many people get to do this?
It isn't even noon. I've still got that laundry to scour. Bring it on, Wednesday.
Bring. It. On.
Bake the bread. Share the slices.
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