There is a reason I chose to label this blog Summer Daze, and that is because sometimes, well I ask myself..."Is this really my life? How did I get here, exactly? What happened to my abs of steel?" All kidding aside, a few days ago a very dear friend of mine brought over a fabulous chicken tortilla soup cookies and and entire, homemade derby pie. The gift of cooked food at this point in my life ranks right up there with sharing a kidney, as I already dread the idea of having to do grocery shopping with all these kids in tow. See funny Costco story I will post someday.
Well after devouring the tortilla soup, I prepared the kids for their flu vaccinations (which I know I am totally building it up, but really only consisted of making sure they looked clean, had on shoes and were buckled into the car). I was thinking about how delicious that pie would be once the kids were safely in bed, vaccinated and snoring. How the Mr. and I would snuggle up with our favorite things, each other, baked goods and the TV (not necessarily in that order) and enjoy a rare moment of blissful togetherness. I just have to survive this appointment I was thinking. Mr. will be home from his church meeting just in time to tuck the kids in, and then "Pie" I giggled in triumphant glee.
I schlepped those kids to their appointment, I cajoled and comforted Miss H into inhaling the flu mist, (which probably won't even absorb she was chortling so much). I snuggled and tickled and pinned Little Daddy so he could get his injection, I complimented Cubby on his bravery I returned kids in tow, properly vaccinated and prepared them for bed. The Mr. Returned just as we were finishing "stories" and said a little sarcastically from the kitchen. "I hope you weren't planning on having any pie." "What" I called.. "you can't eat a whole pie MR. you have to share." "There's an empty pie tin on the floor he said.. the words bouncing all around me.. "what" I said.. did you look on the floor (I was I'm not even kidding, fully prepared to eat it off the floor.) "The dog," he said, "The dog must have gotten it".
Now I am the first one to say I am always encouraging the kids to have kindness in their hearts, to love one another and be generous. Let's just say that is not what I felt for Roger (the dog) who ate my pie. Let's just be glad that that I do not have Jedi powers because the absolute rage I felt for the dog that ate my pie.. well I'm not proud of it.
SO we got the kids to bed, halfheartedly I snuggled up with my husband and prime time tv, and fell asleep, only to be awakened at an ungodly hour of 1:30 unexpectedly by the baby. What I thought.. no no no... she gets up at 3:30 this is all wrong. So I nurse her, and then just as I have drifted off I am awakened by a strange sound... the Mr. sits bolt upright (a very unusual occurrence) it is the dog. He is throwing up. I have to sleep I think.. because the baby will be waking up soon. And that dog is throwing up MY DERBY PIE all over the room. Well, the Mr. springs into Mr. Clean action, and although he is grumbling about it he is definitely cleaning up. Put him out I politely suggest from under the covers. (What I meant though was GIVE HIM AWAY). So the commotion, disturbs Little Daddy who now needs to be shushed and quieted.. a lulluby version of "Take me out to the ball game" appears to do the trick. And I stumble back into the bed.
Sleeping Beauty gave up her 7 hour stretch of nightly sleep that our pediatrician labeled "remarkable" as I basked in the glory of bringing forth what was obviously another "Super Baby". This absence of this extended sleeping period has left me less than desirable in the personality department and is wreaking havoc on my patience (already thin). So while the Mr. was away at this exotic locale he refers to as "work"; a mythical place where I am told no one spits up on you, requires you to wipe any of their parts, (hands, nose, or buns) and even the most irritating children are required to vacate your room every 45 minutes, the Daze part set in.
In my exhaustive and exceptionally inhospitable mood.
I had cleverly sent the older children, all three of them into the brisk fall morning to play in our fenced backyard while I nursed Sleeping Beauty and attempted the inevitable 30 minute shushing and soothing that she now requires to go back to her sleeping state. So as I began the nursing, I heard that delightful flushing sound I mentioned before that she makes when she's filling her diaper, no cause for alarm we all know poop happens... only the sound did not stop, and then you guessed it.. we were both requiring a change of clothes. "Yay more laundry" I thought, because humor is one of the first things to go when I am sleep deprived. As I began to wrestle our newborn out of her layers of clothing I heard the distinct cry of Little Daddy from the backyard, "danddaid" he exclaimed clamouring towards me.. bloody finger extended... "
"What happened ?" I asked trying to determine the best method for changing the the the poopy beauty and myself while simultaneously retrieving and applying a bandaid. "Tonner throw my booball in the buu" I wracked my poor sleep deprived mommy brain trying to translate toddler to english only to be interuppted by another teary eruption this time by the aforementioned offender. What happened to your head? He didn't even get to begin his answer because a sqwaking Miss H was on his heels to defend her good name, while grabbing her own nose. Connor threw the football at my nose!" " Hannah.. catch..... hit... shovel" "Boo ball.. buuuu" I tried to sort it all out, while stripping out of my poopy clothes, while holding the naked squirming baby while applying the band-aid. Just when I thought I had it all sorted out, the thought was interrupted by the horrible retching sound of that DOG vomiting up the last of my beloved DERBY PIE."
"The dog is throwing up your derby pie on the rug, Mom." Miss H explained helpfully. Her tears suddenly abated "It's disgusting, ewww gross." Added a charming Cubby. hmm I said, the last of my resolve fading.. "How did I get here?" I wondered, this must have been in the fine print at the hospital, where is the nanny? Is this really what I traded my skinny thighs for? All these thoughts swirling around in my sleep muffled brain.
I think we need to watch a movie. I said aloud. And then more confidently, "yes yes yes, we need to watch a movie..."