First, the sickness...
Tyson has had a sore throat/lost voice for about a week. The rest of us seemed to be avoiding the sickness, but then Wednesday night Sawyer woke up at 1 a.m. bawling/coughing/barking/bawling/barking, and I couldn't calm him down and get him back to sleep for two hours. The next day, Beck and I were sick too. Beck has the sniffles and a cough, and so does Sawyer, and I have a sore throat and head cold. No one has a fever. So we are just "under the weather" it seems. We don't feel awful, but we don't feel good. Maybe we don't feel like getting off of our beds. Okay, I am speaking for myself here. But, of course, when you're the mom, you have to get off your bed and take care of the other sickies, change the diapers, do the baths, cook the dinners, do the dishes, etc....all the regular work.
Then, the missed naps and wakeful nights...
The kids have not been taking their usual naps the past few days. They also have been waking up multiple times per night. I guess I didn't realize how much my sanity depended on afternoon nap time until it was taken away.
Then, an idea...
I saw a job advertisement for a cooking class assistant at our nice kitchen store here in Logan. It's a prep/demo/assist position for cooking classes on Tuesday and Thursday evenings, and Saturdays. I don't really need to get a job, but sometimes the thought of a small part-time job tempts me -- the extra money, the adult interaction, the mental stimulation. (And then I hear Sis. Julie Beck in my head..."Mothers who know...blah...blah...blah...," and feel guilty.) Anyway, I talked to Tyson about it and he said I could look into it further if I wanted to. If I am to have a job, this job sounds ideal. very few hours, and I think I would be very good at it, seeing as cooking/food is my main hobby anyway. The ad said to apply in person at the store, so I decided I would do so today.
Leave my two kids in the car while I go into the store for who knows how long? Probably not a good idea.
Maybe a solution...
Perhaps I could call and see if the neighbor girl could tend the kids while I run out for a bit. So I decided that was the plan. Now I just needed to get ready. Not "mom" ready. Like, "professional" ready. "Hire me" ready. A type of ready I do not often get, these days. I haven't gotten that type of ready, in non-maternity clothes, for three years. I look in my closet and find I don't even HAVE those type of clothes anymore. Oh wait, I see it...a cute pair of slacks and dressy top my younger-cuter-thinner-more-fashionable sister has lent to me while she is pregnant. So I have ONE nice outfit, and it doesn't even belong to me. Hmmm, maybe a job isn't such a great idea. But I press forward.
I let both kids watch Muppet Treasure Island on my bed while I showered, dressed, applied full makeup, dried and flat-ironed my hair. Oh wow, I look good! I only had to sacrifice my children's mental well-being to the movie gods to get this way. Now it's time for a nutritious lunch, naps, call the babysitter, and I'll be out the door.
Not so fast...
Fussy little Beck didn't want to settle down for a nap. I finally got him down, and took Sawyer downstairs for lunch. I got some food in front of him and sat down at my computer to polish and print a resume. I was munching away on defrosted pancakes when a felt quite thirsty. "Nilk?" Sawyer suggested. Yes, kid, milk sounds good. I poured us a couple of glasses and sat down again. I lifted my glass to my lips to take a swig, and I don't know how, but I completely missed and dribbled milk down my cardigan, shirt, pants, and barstool. "Uh-oh! Nilk!" Sawyer proclaimed. Yes, kid, very observant. I had to laugh at myself, so I wouldn't cry. Of course, it WAS kind of funny, that I would spill milk all over myself at the one time I was trying to look good, when I didn't have any other nice clothes to change into. I cleaned up as best I could by thoroughly soaking each spot with water and dabbing out the milk. This was going to delay my departure a little bit, because I was now going to have to wait for my clothes to dry before I would once again be presentable.
In the meantime, Beck awoke from his incredibly short nap, all fussy and snot-nosed. This normally cheery kid does not take well to being sick. He very much dislikes suffering the indignity of having his nasal passages cleared with the bulb syringe, or having his nose wiped with a tissue. I put him on his blanket on the floor and went back to my resume. I soon smelled an unpleasant scent wafting in the air. Moments later, the toddler next to me made an unnecessary announcement. "Poopy!" Sawyer said, proudly. Yeah, kid, I can tell. I didn't jump up to take care of the problem right away, because this was Number Two Round Two for the day, so I thought how bad could it be?
Famous last words. I finished my computer work, cleaned Sawyer's face and hands, and got him down from his chair. I was running much later than I wanted to be by now. It was nearing 3:30 p.m. and Sawyer wasn't even down for the nap that usually starts at about 1:30. I hurriedly took his pants off and threw them on the floor, then unsnapped his onesie while grabbing a clean diaper. That's when I felt it. And that's when I smelt it. And that's when I saw it. The poop. THE POOP. The POOP was EVERYWHERE. It was leaking out of the diaper and had somehow gotten flung about the room. There was some on his leg. There was some on my hand. There was some on my carpet. And there was some on MY PANTS!!! (Or, more accurately, on my sister's pants.) I thought that was the worst place it could land, until I saw that there was some on Sawyer's hand, too, and that he was reaching his hand toward his mouth, and reaching his tongue toward his hand. "NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! DON'T TASTE POOP!!!!!! WE NEVER EAT POOP!!!!!! POOP IS YUCKY!!!!! NO! NO! NO! NO!" Do you think he got the message? Well, I don't think he needed me to tell him, because I think he had already tasted it and figured out its yuckiness for himself.
So, by the time I used about 80 wet-wipes cleaning up the mess, not to mention carpet-cleaner, oxy-clean, and febreze, well, it was 4:00 and I wasn't going anywhere.
Now, not dropping the resume off? I don't care so much about that. I can try again tomorrow or on Monday. That's not what really makes me want to cry. I'm not crying over spilt milk, or flung poo, or a sore throat, or being all dressed up with no place to go.
I'm sad because it's been snowing for the past four hours and tonight is Girls Night at Lacey's house in Farmington. I haven't seen my dear, dear friends since before Beck was born. That's almost six months! They got together in December, but I couldn't make it on account of poor weather, and now it's happening all over again! You see, they all live down there in Davis County where we grew up, and I live up here in Cache Valley. And what stands between them and me?
That is Sardine Canyon, in the most recent UDOT CommuterLink pictures. Once upon a time I might hop in my car and brave the storm, but that was before I had kids, and before totaled my car in a snowy-weather accident in just about the exact location pictured in the first photo above.
There is an alternate way out of Cache Valley. You can drive west toward Riverside/Tremonton, but it's probably almost as bad as Sardine in a storm like this.
Why? Why does everything just go WRONG sometimes?
Well, friends, have fun without me. I am missing you...you have no idea how much.