And it's only 12:30. I've got the whole rest of it to go.
Started out bad when kids again dragged their feet til Screaming Mom rose to the surface. I dig the whole ScreamFree thing, but some days it just ain't happening around here. They piddle around and drag their feet until we have to leave in 10 minutes and then it's an EMERGENCY. But MOM! I haven't eaten breakfast! I'm not DRESSED!
Um, yeah. I noticed that.
But these are not kids who are getting ready for their first day of school, and maybe they're not familiar with the routine yet.
No sooner did I get home from dropping all the kids, dressed and fed, off at school, than the older boys' school called and the oldest dude had thrown up. Can I please come get him?
So off I go, in the middle of a conversation with a really good friend, who I called for a verbal hug. In addition to the lateness issue, there has been some other drama going on round here this week, in relation to the adult child who has been living with us. 'Nother story for another day. Suffice it to say, I was feeling really crappy this morning. Bad parent, bad person, deserving of all that is evil in this world. But her verbal hug was just what I needed.
He and I sit on the couch and watch cartoons for a while, and he is sick a couple more times. The dog needs to go out, so I put her on her tie-out in the backyard, thinking she could use a little play time and the ground is frozen (so I thought) so she wont' be too dirty from digging. When it's time to pick up the little dude from school, I leave Moe on the couch under a warm blanket and go get the dog.
Covered. In. Frozen. Mud.
How did she DO that? Never mind, it doesn't matter, because the end result is still that I need to clean her up. Ugh.
Tie her in the garage, go and get the little guy. Must run warm water in the tub so she can be readmitted to the interior of the house. Walk in the door to run bath, and Moe is hunched over the garbage can in the family room, getting sick again and crying, "Thank God you're back Mom!"
Dog acts as though bath is Chinese water torture and glares at me with death in her eyes the whole bath. Tries to jump out three or four times. Finally stare her down and get her to cooperate, and Moe comes upstairs naked from the waist down, his stomach bug having moved in a different direction, that the poor child was unprepared for. I tell him to toss his dirty clothes into the laundry room and try to get him in the shower. Which he hates. Give up and settle for bullying the dog.
Dry dog off, get her to see things from my point of view, and go back downstairs. Now must find and fix lunch for Curly, who is not sick to his stomach. Then, do the pile of laundry that has magically appeared, find time to work out and get the endorphin rush that will make all of this go away, and do homework so that I can relax and enjoy my vacation next week.
Why do these things happen the day that Dad leaves?
On the bright side, I did get a new laptop this week. My last one died suddenly and my wonderful tech geek husband found a great price on a groovy MacBook. I think the Apple/Mac transition is complete.
I hate to admit it but
I'm an Apple geek.
Shh. Don't tell anyone.