(More than) Fourinarow.net

Last weekend, I had the chance to attend a 3-day retreat.  The stars must have been aligned just right, because I managed to leave behind my family on Thursday evening, not returning until Sunday evening, and everyone survived.  Even the dog.

Not only did they all survive, but there was no mud, no blood and no trips to the ER (that I was told about, anyway).  It sounds like the worst things that happened were:  1)Maria taking a soccer ball to the face; and 2) Jack spilling chicken juice all over the back of the van.  (Don’t ask.)

When I returned on Sunday evening, the kids were all thrilled to see me (and I, them) and Dan did a fabulous job of pretending not to be the least bit crabby.  (He was, however, a little eager to get out the door on Monday morning…)

I guess you can only ask for so much, though.

Last night, the sister of a friend was giving a presentation on NFP.  It was her first time giving it and I had told her earlier in the week that I would try to be there to support her.  I received Dan’s blessing and so sent her a message confirming that I’d be there.

I picked up the kids from school, got a doctor’s appointment out of the way, helped with homework and fixed dinner for everyone.  When the kids were finished eating, we cleaned up, I put one in the shower, put one to bed and sent the others off to entertain themselves.

I kissed everyone good-bye and headed off to the presentation, thinking that Dan should have pretty easy time of it.

When the presentation was over, I called Dan to let him know I was heading home.  He told me that it turned out to be a fairly hectic evening, but that everyone was finally in bed.  Whew!

A few minutes later, Dan called me back.

“You’re not going to believe this,” he told me.

“The dog got skunked AGAIN?!?” I guessed.

“No.  It’s not that.  I was cleaning up my dinner (he had eaten later) when I heard someone moving around upstairs and went to investigate…”

“And the dog ate the chili!!!” I guessed again.

“No, no,” he said.  “I went upstairs and I heard someone in the bathroom, so I called out ‘Who goes there?’  But, I didn’t get any response.  So, I peeked through the crack in the door and I saw Fred* peeing… IN THE TRASH CAN!”

“WHAT?!?” I said.

“Yep,” he said.  “He was still asleep.  So, I redirected him, but it was still a mess,” Dan told me.

The crazy thing is, is that the trash can in that bathroom (which is right next to the toilet) is one that you have to step on to raise the lid!!!

Dan thought it was amusing when he was talking to me, but by the time I got home, he was pretty crabby about the mess.  Not that I blame him.

He did, however, feel validated in his theory about the Smoke Detector.

*The name of the child has been changed to protect his identity (and my life one day when the kids start reading this stuff!)