The Wrong Side Of The Bed And Everything That Follows

Today started like most others except that when Sienna woke up at 6 am (unusually early for her) I was NOT in the middle of a workout but rather in the middle of my bed, snoozing away. Knowing that Brad didn't have to be to school until 10 this morning thanks to finals, I gave myself permission to sleep longer than normal which seems fine in theory but in reality was really just the first misstep in the crazy day that was to come.

At 7, the phone rang to reveal my friend Tracy asking me to watch her daughter since her regular daycare provider had just called in between episodes of spewing into the toilet, and while I hesitated for a moment (slightly bothered that I wouldn't be able to walk at the mall with an extra kid) I said no problem as I set an extra place at the table for breakfast.

I ran upstairs to shower and when I returned, Brad told me he was headed to the gym. A perfectly okay thing to do, I know, but since my brain was already in todays-gonna-suck mode, I was annoyed. I told him, rather snippily, to be back by 8:30 so I could take the boys to school since the addition of an extra kid meant I didn't have room for everyone in my van. He was back at 8:33. But whatever.

After dropping Spence at school and then the girls at preschool, I went back home so Brad could leave. That left me with Sienna, Aidan and Megan. Thinking that this would be a good time to sweep and mop the kitchen floor, I bundled them all up and sent them in the backyard. I was almost done with everything and taking a quick potty break when I heard all three of them. Inside. In the kitchen. In muddy shoes. On the floor I had just mopped. But whatever. I shooed them back outside and re-did the floors. Hooray for me.

Once the floor was dry and the kids were back inside, I started putting all of the chairs back in the kitchen. Since Sienna has opted for sitting at the table now instead of her high chair, I busied myself re-attaching her booster seat to the chair with a bungee cord. (I know. The seat should have it's own leash to attach it to a chair and it did, three children ago, but it doesn't anymore.) Wanting to get the bungee cord nice and tight, I pulled on one side and fastened it underneath the chair where it held for a moment until it let go with such force that it FREAKED ME OUT and then WHACKED ME IN THE FACE.

Now, as most of you know, I don't have much feeling in my chin and lower lip thanks to jaw reconstruction surgery in high school, but I FELT THIS. Thawack, right into the bottom left side of my face. And it wasn't just the hook part of the cord that got me but the whole coiled up part leading to the hook. You know, the stuff all wrapped in wire? Awesome.

I was determined not to cry since but it hurt so bad. I tried to busy myself with something else. I started reorganizng the pantry and when I finished it, I slammed the door shut in retaliation for my facial wound only to slam the door on my finger. My middle finger. Of my left hand. With impressive force.

Oddly, I was relieved that it was the middle finger on my left hand because I had recently injured the middle finger of my right hand and I wanted to even things out. I don't think this one will require the splint, darn it, but it hurt. Like way bad.

Brad called at 2:30 and instead of telling me that he was on his way home, he informed me that he was headed to a meeting he just found out about and would see me at 5. Totally awesome.

Since Brad was going to be home, I had to do some fast thinking about ballet arrangements. I really didn't want to try and entertain Sienna, Spencer and now Quentin (whom I was also watching after school) at ballet, so after phone calls and carseat swaps, all three girls (Hannah, Nadia and Megan) were headed to ballet with Melanie while I kept Spencer, Sienna, Quentin and Aidan. Totally freaking awesome.

Once I got the boys settled playing Gameboy, I thought I'd get started on dinner. It was about 4:15, AKA Sienna's witching hour, so I tried to distract her with songs and music while I cooked. She started doing her fun grunt/howl/moan sound which I ingnored like any good mother. I turned to look at her just as the first of her projectile vomit hit the floor. The kitchen floor. The already mopped twice today kitchen floor. And crappy mom that I am, that's the thought I had. Not why is my child throwing up? Not is she okay? Just oh goody, get to mop again. I hate myself.

At about this time, I started thinking of all the things I could do tonight since Tracy, when asking me to watch Megan, had promised me that she would take all the kids so I could get out for a bit. I was very excited about this idea. All the way until it didn't happen.

As I finished getting all five kids eating dinner, Tracy came in from her appointment. We chatted for a few minutes and I offered her dinner which she took. Brad came and went, I cleaned up and then Tracy and the kids left, without paying me for the daycare and more importantly, without taking my kids with her. I don't really blame her. I know she'll pay me (she said so as she left) and she seemed too distracted to be bothered with my kids. No problem. It's totally fine. Totally, freakingly, awesomely FINE. At least I know she's good for it.

So here I am now, with a quiet house. A clean house, especially the kitchen floor. Sleeping children. All the good things in the world, right at my fingertips. To bad I'm too exhausted to enjoy any of it.