You know those days when the kids start fighting from the moment they wake up (which is, of course, at the butt crack of dawn), the baby fusses constantly and refuses to nap, the dogs are repeatedly underfoot, and the day comes to an end without a single thing accomplished? (I'm sure no one else has ever experienced this kind of day!) Well, that was how I spent my beautiful Saturday... breaking up fights, soothing a squealing infant, and stepping on toys that were still in the same place they've been for days, despite numerous reminders that I will, in fact, dig a hole in the yard and bury each toy that is left out, one by one, leaving only the shovel for the kids to play with. This, however, backfired when Cameron thought this would be a "cool" idea... and now I'm absolutely positive there will be holes dug in my yard by the end of the weekend.
Still struggling with a sinus infection that I picked up sometime last week from my live-in germ carriers, I have been walking through a Nyquil-induced haze for the better part of the week, mixed with a DayQuil / Benedryll coma. Between green mucus and swallowing what has to be phlegm-coated razor blades, I feel like a bomb is going off in my upper body. So, I'm obviously the epitome of patience today. This is why I now regret asking Taylor if we need to have her tested. She looked at me dumbfounded and asked, "Why, Mommy?" (I blame the DayQuil.... it says non-drowsy, but it lies....) "Because, Taylor, if I ask you to pick up your pile of belongings from the middle of the floor, and you walk over to the pile and pick up ONE THING, it MUST mean that YOU NEED TO BE TESTED FOR SOMETHING BECAUSE NO ONE IS THAT LAZY!!!!" (The back of the bottle says not to operate heavy machinery.... mother-hood has to be harder than driving a fork-lift, right??) To which my daughter answered.... "But Mom, I am that lazy!" (Knowing is half the battle, my dear...)
And now, the two arguers are asleep, most of their crap is off the floor, the face towel that was used to wipe up the toilet earlier (courtesy of Cameron) is now in the laundry, and there's a drying rack of barely rinsed baby bottles sitting by the sink. The chunky one is still fussing, despite having eaten 45,000 ounces of formula, and my dog has once again decided that the new leather furniture is his playground and that my decorative cream-colored pillow, his butt-rest. And I have decided that the makers of DayQuil will be receiving a strongly-worded letter from this unsatisfied customer. But despite it all, I am grateful that we are all still alive. It was touch and go for a while, but we have survived yet another fun-filled Saturday. Now it's time for this Mommy to switch to her Nyquil with a Benedryll chaser and let this fuzzy head dream of clean houses, polite children, and clear-colored mucus.
Still struggling with a sinus infection that I picked up sometime last week from my live-in germ carriers, I have been walking through a Nyquil-induced haze for the better part of the week, mixed with a DayQuil / Benedryll coma. Between green mucus and swallowing what has to be phlegm-coated razor blades, I feel like a bomb is going off in my upper body. So, I'm obviously the epitome of patience today. This is why I now regret asking Taylor if we need to have her tested. She looked at me dumbfounded and asked, "Why, Mommy?" (I blame the DayQuil.... it says non-drowsy, but it lies....) "Because, Taylor, if I ask you to pick up your pile of belongings from the middle of the floor, and you walk over to the pile and pick up ONE THING, it MUST mean that YOU NEED TO BE TESTED FOR SOMETHING BECAUSE NO ONE IS THAT LAZY!!!!" (The back of the bottle says not to operate heavy machinery.... mother-hood has to be harder than driving a fork-lift, right??) To which my daughter answered.... "But Mom, I am that lazy!" (Knowing is half the battle, my dear...)
And now, the two arguers are asleep, most of their crap is off the floor, the face towel that was used to wipe up the toilet earlier (courtesy of Cameron) is now in the laundry, and there's a drying rack of barely rinsed baby bottles sitting by the sink. The chunky one is still fussing, despite having eaten 45,000 ounces of formula, and my dog has once again decided that the new leather furniture is his playground and that my decorative cream-colored pillow, his butt-rest. And I have decided that the makers of DayQuil will be receiving a strongly-worded letter from this unsatisfied customer. But despite it all, I am grateful that we are all still alive. It was touch and go for a while, but we have survived yet another fun-filled Saturday. Now it's time for this Mommy to switch to her Nyquil with a Benedryll chaser and let this fuzzy head dream of clean houses, polite children, and clear-colored mucus.
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