This morning was officially Not Pretty around here.
I work one morning a week at our church. I watch the kids while the mommies have Ladies' Bible Class. I do get paid for this gig, which is cool considering that I supply a considerable number of the children that I am paid to watch. However, being a family of five, it takes us substantially longer to go through a round of illness than it did when there were only three of us. As a result, I have missed the last two Wednesdays with some various combination of sick people at home.
So this morning I awaken, determined to go. As I am making lunches, I feed the cat and fail to place the can on the other side of the baby gate. Charlie's Trouble Sensor instantaneously alerts him to this fact, and off he goes. I see this, but I am in the middle of something else and, being the third child, I am just glad it is the cat's food dish and not the litter box for once.
Evidently canned cat food is not as delightful as dry, because Charlie proceeds to vomit all over himself. Great.
I clean him up, clean up the floor, and go back to making lunch. I pause periodically to toss churnks of food at the breakfast-seeking children. I get Charlie strapped into his high chair, his bib is on, his tray is snapped into place and food is set out. Silly me--I think this is sufficient. I go into my room to change.
Just as I am stark-naked and grabbing my pants off their hanger I hear THUNK. pause. wail. Charlie Houdini has escaped and landed face-first on the floor. I scoop up my baby, retreat to the couch, and hold his sobbing baby body.
Dixie: Mommy, why are you naked?
Melody: Why is Charlie crying?
D: Grown ups are not supposed to be naked.
M: Can you put this dress on Belle?
D: Does Charlie know that you are naked?
M: But mommy! I can't put the dress on my self. I. Need. Your. Help.
D: Charlie is too loud mommy.
M: Mommy, why won't you help me?
I set down the screaming helpless wounded boy long enough to throw clothes on, grab lunch boxes, turn off lights, and scoop him up to head out the door. I get him buckled into the carseat and am (probably not all that kindly and gently at this point) telling the girls to get into their carseats. Melody does. Dixie is in the back row of the van and pops up behind Melody's head with an old cup of juice and asks her if she wants it.
I tell her that it is old, that she doesn't want it and to get in her seat now. So Dixie drops the juice. Unfortunately, Melody's head happens to be right underneath where Dixie happens to be holding it when she happens to let go of it. Stinking apple juice splashes and cascades down Melody's fluffy dress, the carseat, the bench of the van, and finds its way onto Charlie. Charlie has been wearing these clothes for almost eighteen minutes.
I am already late to a job I haven't been to in two weeks. So I grab some cloth diapers, shove them onto the most drenched spots, and take off. In all the pandemonium, I forget to check out my boy's skull status. He falls asleep in the car, I move him in in the infant carrier, put him in the dark quiet corner of the room and get on with watching the myriad of other children present. This grouping includes one child 6 weeks younger than Charlie who screamed, I kid you not, for 3 hours with no more than a 2 minute pause at a stretch. Quiet was restored only because his mother finally took him away. For all I know, he is still screaming.
At some point in the morning, Charlie awakens. I finally check out his face and discover a very large egg on one corner of his forehead, a bruise on his eye socket and another on his cheek bone, all resulting from the high-chair face-plant. Poor Charlie.
I went to Wal*Mart today and spent $40 on fabric and notions for a Dorothy pinafore, hair ribbons and sash for Dixie and an Ariel's Married Dress for Melody. I cannot believe I just bought 6 yards of fabric to swathe my 25 lb. child in. It should be a complete bear to sew that slippery, shiny stuff.
But when I brought it home and saw Melody's eyes sparkle at the thought of being wrapped and frocked in this 'Fluff and Stuff' it was not as insane an idea after all, to make a wedding dress for a child who is not yet four.
I even ordered an Ariel wig from Disney.com today and threw in a Sebastian the Crab costume for Charlie while I was there. If I get the girls' costumes done in time, I am contemplating making myself an Ursula the Sea Witch get-up.