Here’s one of my blast from the past posts from Tumblr about a pretty disastrous MondayTuesday. I’ve come to the conclusion that three day weekends that end on a Monday, invariably lead to the mega Monday, the karmic payback of sloth and gluttony, the dreaded, horrific, MondayTuesday. It’s as if Monday was so put out by the fact that we lolled about pool side on a beautiful day rather than cursing the day that hearkens the end end of our weekend activities, that it decided to compose a symphony of disaster to greet me on Tuesday morning.
The first event of my epic MondayTuesday came disguised as a false alarm. When the 6:30am alarm sounded, I jumped into the shower while M headed to wake up Jada and get breakfast rolling. As I stand under my mystical waterfall of morning bliss, an alarmed voice alerts me, “I think Jada’s sick. We may not be going to school today. She ate one bite of cereal and asked to lay down.”
What I heard was this: “Tag. You’re it.”
Tuesday is one of my telecommute days and I feel myself going into damage control mode. I begin to run down my “If you suspect your child is sick” troubleshooting guide.
“Did you take her temperature?”
“Her temperature is a 97 point something,” he replies.
“Did she say her tummy hurt?”
“She said she wanted to lay down, so I let her. I’m going to go ahead and get ready. I guess she’s not going to school.”
I shoot back, “I need to get a visual.”
It’s amazing how M and I discuss our kiddos as if we are engaged in a military campaign.
I hop out of the shower, get dressed faster than a firefighter headed to a 3 alarm fire and head to Jada’s room.
I hardly have to open my mouth to asses the situation. One look at her and I see that she’s white like a sheet of paper…my child is dehydrated. Solution: hydrate said child.
I run downstairs, grab a glass of water and sit with her while she gulps it down. Almost instantly, her color comes back and my perky girl is back in action. We get dressed, comb hair, wash face and sit down for breakfast and another glass of water in the matter of 15 minutes. Back on track. Crisis averted. M and J head to school with ten minutes to spare.
With an hour to spare before the start of work, I’m feeling good! Callie is still sleeping, I’m dressed and ready for the day, I’ve got all my ducks in a row to start work, so why not get a head start on some laundry?
I grab my headset, dial my mom and chat happily while I set a load of diapers to soak in the utility sink. I drop in the diapers and turn on the tap. While the sink fills, I run off to grab Callie, quickly dress and feed her breakfast.
I hear thunder, followed by rain and I feel myself getting excited about not having to water my herb garden. With plenty of time to spare I sink comfortably into my office chair. I prep my virtual workspace, log into our messaging service, shoot off a couple of “good mornings” and step away for my java fix.
I skip gleefully into the kitchen and I hear the bubbling of a waterfall…water…fall….THE SINK IN THE LAUNDRY ROOM! NO!
I open the door to my laundry room to find my floor flooded in about an eighth of an inch of water. Oh, the irony! A dehydrated child and a flooded laundry room.
I run upstairs to grab every towel we own to battle the raging waters. As I rush back down the stairs I miss the bottom step and wipe out while bending my foot in a manner that would make ancient Chinese foot binders proud. I wipe out in such a way that it would make an intriguing chalk outline.
At this point, I stand up, hobble over to my computer and check to see that all is well in the virtual office. IMs are lighting up like a Christmas Tree. I’ve got a missing counselor. Crap!
Where’s Callie? Changing 100! It’s like Vegas…credit cards are flying everywhere. She’s got my wallet and I could care less. Hmm, do I detect a slight sewage smell? I’ll get back to that later.
I managed to move out all of the gear from the laundry room, dry the floors, and get everything back into place and organized.I go to grab Callie and the smell is undeniable. What is that dripping? Oh crap. Literally.
Explosive diaper. Explosion is such that I have to bathe Callie. I stick her and diaper into tub. I really wish we’d installed the hand held shower attachment. The tub is going to need a scrub down. I get Callie dressed and back to play time.
I finally sit down and start plugging away at work. My awesome colleague held down the fort while I was away. Things are flowing smoothly.
I AM AWESOME! You can’t get me, MondayTuesday! Am I right? Am I right?
Internet goes down and so does Vonage. $#@%@!I am beyond ready to throw my hands in the air and run screaming from my house. Any chances M will be home on time? Nope. Late? Later than late.
By 7pm my children are going to sleep whether they want to or not. Thank goodness Jada can’t tell time yet. As I put Callie in her jammies, I spin to walk towards her crib and don’t realize that Jack is laying directly at my feet. I trip over Jack and head for the floor. Again. With Callie in my arms. I twist in such away that sends my right knee sliding across the carpet and re-tweaks my foot from the aforementioned fall as I twist to keep Callie from hitting the floor.
Jack lets out a yelp.
Callie cries from fear.
I silently weep due to rug burn and shame.
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