I made myself a piece of toast this afternoon. Toast with crunchy peanut butter and jam is my ace-in-the-hole snack when the nausea threatens to consume me. So I made the toast, put it on a paper plate, sat on the couch, and ate it. I had already thrown up twice in a few hours and couldn't afford to do it again. I had to settle. Breathe in...breathe out...
Then I heard water running in the bathroom.
When I walked around the corner, down the hall, and into my room, I found this:
(There was carnage on every surface of that tiny bathroom, which, by the way, I paid someone to clean this morning, but my rolling stomach only allowed a couple of photos. I am particularly enamored with the "don't look at me!" poses my kids struck. What? Hiding from the media already?)
I promptly turned around, walked back into the kitchen, pulled up Facebook on my laptop and typed, "SOS! SOS!" I really didn't have the stomach (or the brain, or the heart, or the willpower) to deal with this.
Gavin had followed me. As I returned to the scene of the crime, he padded behind me and said, "Sissy did all the mess in there." As both children were covered with lotions and potions and water and sparkles, I knew they were both involved. But only one of them is able to open doors and pry apart child-locked drawers. And that one isn't a Sissy.
So they both stripped (at which point I found out that before nap time Gavin had donned a pull-up, a swimsuit, pajama pants, and regular (read: Halloween costume) pants) and I turned on the shower. I got in bed and pulled the covers over my head. A nearby friend texted to make sure my SOS cry wasn't a true emergency. So I got out of bed and made sure my Facebook friends knew no one had died. And Garry was on his way.
The kids were just getting out of the shower when a friend came to the door. She's a Notary Public and graciously offered to come to my house and notarize some preschool paperwork I need to submit for Gavin. [Sidebar: Is he applying for the FBI? Notarized docs seem a little extreme for a three-year-old on a waiting list.] Both kids streaked, soaking wet and naked, across the room during her visit. When Kaye left, I attempted to dress Lexi. She ran away, hid under the piano (it's a baby grand) and peed on the wood floor.
Later there was an incident with graham crackers on my bedroom carpet. And Gavin clogged a toilet in the basement.
But someone in the ward brought dinner and a California friend's care package arrived in the mail. I guess the day wasn't a total bust. I'm just not ready for another one.