(More than) Fourinarow.net

Wow. Nothing like having your therapist slam the door in your face. Last night I stayed up late to blog. After polishing the masterpiece that it was, I clicked on “publish.” Guess what? NOTHING. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. The program timed out and I LOST EVERYTHING. So, rather than relieving the pressure, I just added to it.

So. Let’s try this again. Maybe the computer gods will have mercy on me this morning.

While I’m thrilled that my children were all on their best behavior (for them) during my parents’ visit, I paid dearly for it on Monday. Like frogs in a microwave, they EXPLODED.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o5daraZ5qgs&rel=1]

I’ll just do a quick recap:

The morning was full of fairly regular chaos. No one was dressed on time, we ran late getting out the door and I think I came back in the house at least four times for items left behind.

After dropping Jack and then Maria at their respective schools, I was able to squeeze in an hour of non-mental agony at the Y while someone else watched The Little Boys.

We rushed home, I grabbed a shower, fed The Little Boys and ran back out the door to pick up Maria. Tears at preschool because I wasn’t taking the family sans Jack to Chick-Fil-A for lunch on the way home. Oh, the horror of it.

After getting home I put The Little Boys down for their naps. Why? Because I like to torture myself. Did they sleep? Ha! It was much more fun to jump up and down in their beds making high-pitched screaming monkey sounds at each other. Until, that is, about 20 minutes before we needed to pick up Jack. Pleasant experience waking them up, let me tell you.

After collecting Jack and arriving back home yet again, we went outside to play in the backyard. Well, they played. I scooped poop, lest someone end up in it. At some point during my poop scooping, Jack decided that Cheerio didn’t want her ball as badly as the neighbor’s dogs did and threw it over the fence. Cheerio went wild. The neighbor’s dogs went wild. I went wild.

I demanded that we get it back and Maria volunteered to be lifted over the fence to retrieve it. I lifted her up and plopped her down on the other side. She landed on her butt and started screaming. I thought maybe she was panicked about the neighbor’s dogs, so I reached back over, grabbed her up and brought her back over to our side. Still screaming, I heard her say something about a big boo-boo on her back.

*****Skip the following paragraph if you’re queasy.*****

I looked under her shirt to find a splinter the size of my PINKY jammed into her back. An AWFUL site. (I guess I didn’t have her far enough away from the fence when I lifted her over, and yes, I still feel terrible about it.) I had to get it out, and quick. Since she was still screaming anyway, I grabbed and pulled. Unfortunately I didn’t get it out on the first try, but I did get it out. With blood running down her back we all headed in to get her bandaged up.

We still needed the ball back (hey – its Cheerio’s only indestructible ball and it was expensive!) So while the rest of us watched from the front yard, Jack ran next door to ask the neighbor for the ball. After his triumphant return, we decided to give the backyard another try. Unfortunately.

Sam and I lagged behind in the kitchen while Jack, Maria and Luke headed out, and before I could blink, Maria was screaming again. I looked out to find her clutching her head with Luke close by, a WOODEN t-ball bat in his hands. (Now, in Luke’s defense, Maria had also had a bat – but hers was a plastic whiffle ball bat. Next time I suspect she’ll choose her weapon more carefully.)

I ran out to check on the damage and confiscate the bats – forever. I came back in and not a minute later Maria ran inside because she needed to poop. (I don’t blame her, either, after all she’d been through.) I peeked out the window and saw Jack playing, but didn’t spot Luke. So, I asked Maria what he was doing.

“Pooping.” But of course!

As I hollered at Luke to come in for a clean diaper (our neighbors already know all about this family’s poop habits), I noticed that Jack was walking around the yard with what looked to be clinched butt cheeks. I called him inside to use the bathroom.

All pooping out of the way, I gave up on the backyard and herded everyone upstairs. Before my butt could make contact with the computer chair, I heard a disgusting, wet, heaving sound. I turned to see the dog barf up her entire dinner and a bowl of water – all over the playroom carpet. Immediately, Sam made a beeline to play in it, so I grabbed him and then headed to the garage for the shop vac. (Gotta love those wet/dry shop vacs for sucking up barf – at least until the smell busts its way out and takes over all the oxygen in the garage.)

I got Cheerio’s generous donation cleaned up and took the shop vac back out to the garage. The shop vac WAS STILL IN MY HAND when the cat walked up to me and puked at my feet. I. Am. Not. Kidding. Seriously, who could make this sh*t up?

At this point, it was 4:47 in the afternoon and the phone rings. Guess who is on the other end asking if it would be a good day to stay late at work?

%*&%$#!!

The hell of it is, is I CAN’T DRINK ANY WINE. I just started Phase I of the South Beach Diet. Absolutely NO ALCOHOL during Phase I.

It’s going to be the longest 14 days of my life. If I survive, that is.