Even if I hadn't dropped you off at the airport, I'd know you were going to be gone for a while- because the universe pulled one of its self implosions- everything went to hell and back in the space of 17 minutes.
I bring you to Naptime:
All is quiet and peaceful... except the toddler is up and down- he won't stay in bed. "Go potty." I suggest (Loaded suggestion. Your kid hates the toilet. For some reason I can't fathom, he almost never makes it to the stupid bathroom without pee getting on something. I'm so tired of your son's urine. And the fight it takes to get him to aim it into the appropriate receptacle!).
Go potty he did. Pee. All over the bathroom floor. Poo. All over the toilet. Not inside it. On it.
I get him into the tub, but he sees the poo and tries to run away from it- despite the fact that it's covering him- further spreading it all over the bathroom.
At this point I've got your screaming newborn in a bouncy seat outside the kids' bathroom and I'm armed with bleach and paper towels trying to make sense of the mess. I have no hands left.
"STAY IN THE TUB!" I scream, desperate, as the doorbell rings.
I smile and sign the slip for some mail at the front door and only just manage to keep the dog from escaping after the neighbors' cat (which is the cat that I think killed three of our chickens, by the way. Should have let Amelia get her!).
Back upstairs, I calm the baby and the phone rings- my daughter has had an allergic reaction at school. "Give her the Benadryl. I'll be there soon." Back to the bathroom.
Get the toddler scrubbed, bathroom bleached and wiped up, and nurse the baby back to calmness.
Got your daughter from school- then everyone took a three hour nap. It's not always hell around here.
Now I'm waiting for the next episode- I know it's coming. The vomit-to-out-of-town ratio is still 1:1, so there's that to look forward to.
-Your Loving Spouse
Hahahahaha-he sees the poo and tries to run from it. Sensible.
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