Apparently somebody did not get the memo. Mommy isn't feeling well, play nice. The kids woke up at 6 am. Reeaally nice. Played on the bed, on top of me for another 10 minutes. Until I just couldn't take any more.
Breakfast. Eddie spilled his milk all over the table. It wasn't one of those easy spills where it just spilled on the table top. No, it went on the table, dripped off onto the chair, where it then ran off to the floor. In the corner. So I had to get down on my hands and knees to reach all of the mess. And to top it off. They don't have GOOD paper towels here. No Brawny, no quicker-picker-upper, no cute little cut to the size you need it. I'm serious. These are the worst paper towels that I have ever seen and used in my entire life. It took me 7 paper towels to clean up half a cup of spilled milk. They are horrid. And for that reason alone, I should pack my bags and come home.
OK. I know. I'm just having one of those days. My sister called. That was a cue to the monkeys. The children went wild. Screaming, singing, running and jumping like wild animals. I am not kidding. At one point during our conversation, I hid behind the couch in the living room. I sat on the floor and had a glorious 5 minutes to myself before they found me.
Later, lunch. Eddie refused to eat his sandwich that I made him. He spilled his orange juice. All over the table top, it ran off of the table, and on to the floor. Again with the stupid paper towels.
Before preschool...Eddie was climbing the furniture. Why? Why not? That's what monkeys do. They climb things. Like I said, climbing. I looked up in enough time to see his hands slip out from underneath him and see his chin slam into the corner of our wood dresser. I knew in a second that he would be screaming. I ran over to him, when I pulled him up, his lip was bloody. I ran into the bathroom with urgency. An urgency that didn't seem to have a concern for the location of my bathroom cabinet. My knee met the knob on the lower cabinet door under the sink with such force, it sent a wave of pain through my body that made me shake. As I cringed and fought off the pain that still sang up and down my nerve, I held my boy over the sink to wash off the blood. One legged and with my eyes squeezed shut, I had to pry them open to inspect the damage. It appears he had punctured his lip with the protruding corner of my dresser. I inspected a little further to find that the wound was only on the outside (thank God.) and it was pretty small. It's amazing how much blood can come out of a small cut.
Alas, he is fine. Alexa is sleeping. All is well with the world. Wait. Just a minute. I still don't feel well. Wasn't I supposed to be taking it easy or something?
I am SO BUYING SOMETHING BIG.