Is it possible? Could it get any worse?
Those of you following the events of the past few days on my blog have probably thought I sure am glad it's happening to him and not me...
Get ready for more gloating.
The kids and I were stuck at home all day on Saturday due to the snow. This wouldn't be such a big deal, except for one problem: my kids are at an age where they like to annoy each other. Mercilessly. Repeatedly. Until I want to throttle them.
So they fought all day and I went slowly insane. I put chains on the tires again for Laura, then she left for work. She called when she got to work and told me two awesome things:
1) One of the tire chains broke
2) The day shift from her job were all sleeping at the hospital because they couldn't get their cars out safely. So she (Laura) planned on staying at the hospital too - sleeping there on Sunday and working the night shift Sunday night. In other words, we wouldn't be seeing her for more than 36 hours. And she had the car seats with her...
So, knowing that she wouldn't be coming home and knowing that I couldn't leave the house and knowing that the crazy fighting kids were my only companions, I wept.
Okay, not really, but I wasn't very happy about it.
Anyway, I woke up in the middle of the night on Saturday/Sunday morning to this:
"I wet my bed. I woke up and I was all wet." It was Ethan and he had (guess what?) wet his bed. I got him in bed with me and fell back asleep.
I woke up in the morning to screaming. Ethan came into my room freaking out and for good reason: while I slept peacefully, he had been playing in the bedroom. He was standing on a bed holding two cords from the window blinds, when he slipped and fell. He fell forward onto the cords, which slid across his neck as he fell, giving him awful rope burn. It looks like someone tried to strangle him with a rope or something.
I don't know that he could have been strangled - I don't think the cord ever wrapped around his neck. But it was still a freaky way to wake up.
Last but not least, was fun poopy time.
All day Callie had been smelling like poop, but every time I checked her diaper it was clean. Finally in the afternoon I smelled a really terrible smell and realized she had actually gone.
I went upstairs and grabbed a diaper and two wet wipes and came back down. But when I got to Callie, I realized I was woefully underprepared.
There was poo all over her fingers. Luckily for me, she knows it's gross, so she was holding her hand out and not touching anything.
Then I saw the poo on the floor: wet splotches that looked like melted Hershey's Kisses. Then I saw it on her pants. And her shirt.
It was everywhere.
I got her upstairs, stripped off the clothes, started a bath, then put her in the shower. Since she had seen me turn on the bath water, and since bath tubs have toys in them, she freaked out. "Bath! Bath!" she yelled, running out of the shower. I corralled her with my leg and managed to get her back in the shower, where I sprayed a layer of poo off of her and down the drain. Then I picked her up, put her in the bath, and started scrubbing.
I finally got her clean, dry, dressed, etc. We went back downstairs and all was well...
Except the kids wouldn't stop fighting. And I had to take out the trash, except the snow was in the way. So I backed up my car to clear some snow, but got stuck halfway down the driveway. I finally got the car free and back into the garage, but I had to carry the trash container down to the curb because the snow was so deep.
And guess what? It's Monday morning at 11:00 and Laura isn't home. She can't get here because of the snow. Stupid snow.
And we're supposed to fly out to Wichita tomorrow, but all of the flights today are delayed or canceled. I sure hope it clears up this afternoon...
