WHEN IT RAINS...

This week has been a horrible example for how a family should operate.

And it's only Thursday.

Sunday started off well enough. I made it to church with minimal tantrums and fits. Got new shoes for the kids thanks to Nana. Then it all started to go downhill. Late afternoon dates transform into short, or missed nap times, which further translates into cranky, overtired kids fighting bedtime. Daughter is in tears over Daddy being at work and this night is learning that she will be putting herself to bed in light of her poor behavior and lack of communication. Battles partly won, kids asleep. Ready for another day.

Monday starts off well enough. Got to spend time in the city (which you KNOW I love) and get home in time to get the kids ready for Daddy's softball double header. I should know better than to allow the kids to be out of the house past 6pm. His games didn't even START until 6pm. Home by 830p but not before getting to hear a whiny, tearful tantrum on why Daughter doesn't want to go home. Another late night, more missed bedtimes and before you know it, this avalanche is in full force. Cautious about what the following day will bring.

Daddy's at work on Tuesday. House is a mess. But the day goes smoothly and I can see the finish line. One kid down, one to go. Bedtime for Son is a nightmare. Teething and no doubt in some serious pain (or maybe he's just incredibly dramatic). Working rapidly through my bag of tricks to no avail. Screaming and crying for nearly 3 hours only to revisit the experience briefly at 2am. At 3am, I finally get back to sleep.

Wednesday brings promise of a brighter day. Kids are ok, surprisingly rested. We get our adult time and enjoy a trip to the library and Applebee's with the kids before promptly getting them into bed at their 7pm bedtime. All goes well. Kids asleep...

Thursday begins at 6am with Daughter vomiting. And vomiting. And vomiting. Her bedding has been changed and washed at least 3 times. I'm high-tailing it out of the house with my son to avoid any possible contamination (all of which I know is fruitless as it is inevitable that he will get sick). My dear son has been sweet as a peach during sis' sickness. That is until I go and get him from his nap to find, to my horror, that he has taken off his poopy diaper and is signing "eat" with his fingers. You get what I'm saying here? He's just likely tasted his own poop. My head is about to explode. I sanitize him the best way I can and strip his bedding. I pray we're not all in for a round of Norovirus. As I write this at nearly 5pm, Sis is in the waiting room of an after-hours clinic awaiting to be seen. And vomiting.

I can't imagine where my Daughter caught her bug and I have no idea when Son will finally break another tooth. (At nearly 18mos, he only has 6!) What I DO know is that I am enjoying a drink more freely these days and daydreaming about my upcoming out-of-town getaway. It is insanely overwhelming to deal with back-to-back-to-back ailments. As a parent, we are expected to fix and remedy all pains and illnesses. Roll with the punches, stay on your toes. But what happens when you can't? Or don't know how? Or have tried every trick in the book and are threatening to drop the kids on Nana's doorstep?

We breathe. Take another swig. And fasten our seat belts for whatever tomorrow holds.