In the Trenches

My children are plotting my demise. I know it.

A little background...

This week has not been our best (It's only Wednesday?). On Sunday, Elise sat very quietly in church and we were pleasantly surprised by her good behavior. After heaping on lots of praise following the first hour of meetings, we discovered the poor girl was running a high fever--that explained the reverence. This also meant she had to skip Nursery and then miss preschool on Monday. Sad.

Monday morning I woke up feeling miserable and knew immediately I had mastitis (for those unfamiliar with the illness, it's like having the flu for a nursing mother--but way worse). My amazing husband stayed home from work to help wrangle the littles while I tried to recover. Luckily I got a prescription the same day and started feeling a little better by Tuesday, which passed without much incident.

So back to my scheming kids...

Today went well until around 5:00. Dinner was on the barbecue, Emerson was napping in his swing, and Elise was playing happily in the backyard. Then D.J. called from work to let me know he was caught up and would be home late. No matter. Dinner would reheat easily. After I hung up with D.J., Elise began screeching from the backyard that she "went potty ev-we-weh!" Since this is her first daytime accident in months, I brushed off my irritation and brought her inside to bathe.

Elise asked me if she could bring the earthworm she found into the bath too, and I said no. Cue wailing tantrum that woke the baby. When I finally got Emerson calmed and Elise washed up, I realized dinner was still smoking away on the barbecue. As I scraped the salvaged bits of meat from the grill and tried to save what was left of our food, Elise announced she wet her pants--yet again.

Following the second bath in less than 30 minutes I served dinner. I decided to change Emerson's diaper before I sat down to eat and realized the boy had exploded everywhere in the worst way. Of course it happened in the bouncy chair I rewashed this morning. I carried my disgusting, dripping baby at arm's length to the bathroom which was soaked with water from Elise's earlier escapades.

It was at this point, with Elise whining loudly that she hated her dinner and Emerson gleefully flinging poo from his pant leg with every kick, that I thought, "They're out to get me." 

One horrific bedtime later (I'll spare you the details. Let's just say it involved lots of screaming and crying on Elise's part.) I dropped onto the couch just in time for D.J. to walk through the door.

"I swear, these kids are conspiring against me." I said.

"Probably." he replied. Then he gave me a sympathetic look and held up a plastic grocery sack.

The man brought me ice cream. I love him!