Reality Bites

We had a frenetic, though lovely, weekend. Despite Jon's back we set out at about 10am on Friday morning for NC. The drive was pretty straightforward, eight hours from door to door and the kids were great. Jon survived sitting for that long and, thanks to the pain in his back, never fell asleep so that was great for me. Normally he falls asleep within about 5 minutes of being a passenger and then I get to drive and deal with the kids and/or waking him up to deal with the kids. Really not fun. But this drive was great. Maybe I should buy a voodoo doll and mess with his back before all long road trips instead of having him drive all the time.

We didn't see as many people as we would have liked to in our 26 hours in NC, but the time we did spend with the friends we did get to see was lovely. The kids also relaxed more completely than they have in months. So we felt pretty good as we set off again at 8:30pm Sat night. Once again everyone did pretty well and Jon slept early on so that he could be awake for the wee hours to help me stay awake. All in all when we arrived at 3:30am we felt it was time well spent.

Then yesterday Jon took the kids to the park for the afternoon so I could get a break before he left. They all seemed to have a lovely time. Dinner was good, bedtime went well. All was good.

Then Jon left.


It appears that the universe thinks that times when I am on my own are a good time to test my mettle. Some of the following is my fault, some not.

First of all, being the first night that I have spent alone in this house, which still feels pretty new and unfamiliar, I locked the door to the garage. I told myself that I must remember I had done that so that I didn't just walk out in the morning and lock myself out. This might have even been a possible feat for my memory had Simon not woken up in a puddle of vomit.

Actually he didn't so much wake up in the puddle of vomit as sleep in it. I walked in the kids' room this morning to get Willa up and smelled barf. I looked everywhere and couldn't find it. Simon was out cold on his tummy. Then he rolled slightly and underneath him was a nice dried puddle of throw up. So I woke him up with a bath and hair wash, which he thought was extremely unfair and mean.

Meanwhile Jude was complaining again about the headache he has had off and on for the last three days and umming and awing about not wanting to go to school and Willa tells me that he tummy hurts, but she wants to go to school. So I get her breakfast ready. As I am dealing with still screaming Simon, Hazel refuses to get dressed, although there is no school for her today. I must remember to find out when she goes back.

Anyway, just as everyone is about ready to leave, Jude decides that in fact a day at home in bed with no tv, computer or wii, does not sound so appealing and that he wants to go to school. So we have 15 minutes for him to get dressed and fed and get to school before the big two get slapped with tardy passes. Hazel is now eating finally and Simon has some milk and then steals one of Hazel's slices of cantaloupe (I will pay for that later, you'll see).

We do actually manage to get out of the door in the nick of time with no yelling, but I am still waiting for the inevitable call from the nurse saying that I need to pick up one or the other for throwing up at school.

Then we drive home and open the garage door and....... did you remember?.........we are locked out. Thank goodness I threw my purse in the car and I have my phone, but I don't have the landlady's phone number. So I call Jon, who has it on his phone. I know he is in the middle of an interview, but being stuck outside in the rainy cold with a barfing kid in his pjs constitutes the right sort of emergency right? But some strange man answers Jon's phone and asks who I am. I figure I have the wrong number, tell him so and hang up, but my phone says that I dialled the right number. So I call back, get voicemail and leave a message. I wonder if I should go across the street and beg to hang out in their warm home, but we don't really know them that well yet. Only enough to know that they are major germophobes, so I figure my barfing baby won't be so welcome.

I decide that I must put aside any thoughts/worries about what happened in Boston and find another way to get the phone number of the landlady, so I spend $10 calling information and get it that way. Fortunately her husband is home and has a spare key so I drive over and get it.

I come home and Simon smells of sulfur so I change him and the diarrhea has started, but only a little. I think I am safe and put him in another cloth diaper. Why do I persist in being optimistic about these things? 15 minutes later he is back in the bath covered in nasty brown liquid that filled the diaper and ran down the legs of his pjs. Volumes and volumes. I put him in his third pair of pjs for the day, this time with a disposable diaper, but after that last one, I am not really holding out high hopes for the pampers to work any better than the bumkins.

So much for doing any grocery shopping today. I am now wondering; should I hope for everyone to get this so that I don't have to find some kind of dinner in the bare pantry?

Oh yes and Hazel decided to pee her pants while I was hosing Simon down and I broke my non yelling streak. Perfect timing eh? Oh well, I knew I wasn't up for any mother of week, month or year awards.

Now I need to go clean up breakfast.