Monday, August 13, 2012

And just like that...

And just like that.... A relatively peaceful day suddenly changed direction.

My Navy Man husband is working poopie hours right now (2+ months of shift work. It's supposed to be 12.5 hours, but it's more like 14 or so hours a day, 7 days a week. He is on mid shift, which is over night.) so he has to sleep during the day. We've explained to the kids that they need to let Dad sleep, they need to not be too loud etc.

I started the morning off with some school to keep the kids occupied and then let them go upstairs to play, with the reminder that Dad is asleep and they needed to not be too loud. I also told them that after lunch/naps we would go out, so play nicely and then clean up.

10 year old: "Mom, Wyatt isn't cleaning like you told him to!" *From right at the top of the stairs from in front of my bedroom where Dad is asleep* I run up the stairs like a bat out of hell and hush him. I remind all 3 older boys that Dad is asleep and they need to keep it down.

7 year old: "Alex! Come here!" *From right in front of my bedroom door where Dad is sleeping* I again, run up the stairs to hush him, this time my foot slips off the step and I nearly kill myself. I reminded all 3 of them to keep it down, again.

6 year old: "Mommy! Alex is being mean!" *From right at the top of the stairs from in front of my bedroom where Dad is asleep* I run up to hush them.. again.

Lets repeat this like.. a dozen more time throughout the morning and early afternoon...


I settled the toddlers for a nap after lunch since they were cranky and was letting Declan (13 months) play a little longer with the big boys before he napped while I did dishes.


Then it got really exciting. I hear all 3 yelling about Declan getting hurt. I run up the stairs and find Alex with a paper towel, covered in blood, holding Declan. They all at the same time yell about how Declan hit his mouth, but the story of what happened isn't the same, of course. I check Declan's mouth and see that he is ok and it's just bleeding a whole lot because of where he hurt himself.

That's when I look down and see the blood... all in the carpet and in his cute shirt. NOOOOOOOO!

I run down stairs, almost fall "sh*t!". Run through the kitchen to get paper towels and Natures Miracle to clean the blood up asap! I trip on a cup that my daughter left on the floor, while catching myself, I manage to slam my foot into the doorway to the laundry room "#!@#!**#! ouch! #!*!#@%*! DAMNIT!". I get back upstairs, without killing myself... cleaned up the blood, checked the baby again, settled them ALL down for naps, yes even the 10 year old, since they can't listen... and now... I can clean downstairs.

I hope I didn't break my damn toes.

Shoot, I haven't eaten anything yet today... I'm hungry.

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