Okay, so after my very uplifting blog about my awesome friend Renee, the past 24 hours have left me somewhat exhausted.
The mission work went off without a hitch. Well organized, great group of people. Yeah us!
I picked up my daughter and since I hadn't eaten all day and was starving and we are having a girls' week while the boys are off hunting (don't get any ideas-- we have an alarm system...), I thought it would be fun to have rootbeer floats for dinner.
And cheese curds.
Oops. Apparently, at Grandma's (she watched her while I was off saving the world), she had made cookies, eaten some batter-- had a fantastic day with Grandma.
My daughter is the kid who loves to eat fruit and has been known to turn down ice cream. She is NOT a junk food kid.
So at 2 am, she barfed. Twice. And went back to sleep.
Luckily, she is crashing in my bed while the boys are gone.
I was awakened by the stench.
In my bed.
I woke her up-- happy she hadn't choked. Started the bath water and began to strip the bed while trying NOT to barf. If you don't have children and think that there is some sort of magic shield that makes your child's vomit not gag you, you are mistaken. It's just as gross as if someone on a plane next to you did it.
She was a good sport- hopped right into the bath tub and washed herself up. I started the washer.
Here's my first gripe- our washer SUCKS. I think it handles about 3 socks at a time.
My next gripe- we have a GIANT California King bed. This is what happens when you marry someone 6'5"- your furniture looks like something from up the beanstalk.
Combine the two gripes and you can't just simply throw everything into the washer.
Oh- and it soaked through the mattress pad all the way to the cover.
This equates to 4 separate loads.
And the bedroom is upstairs. The washer and dryer are downstairs.
And if you've followed my blog, you know I have an old dog Charlie whose body is giving up before his mind. He also is attached to me. When I go up or down the stairs, because he no longer can join me, he either a) whines like he's been hit by a car (how dare I desert him) or b) throws himself up or down the stairs in what can only be described as the most painful process I've ever witnessed. If I say things like "Stay there-- I'll be right back " it makes no difference. If I say "Shut the hell up- I'm coming right back after I get rid of the pukey sheets!" it also makes no difference.
And of course, as my daughter is bathing, my old dog, who also has, um bowel issues, has taken a dump in the bathroom.
So it's 2:15 am, I have a naked 5 year old in a bathtub, a 14 year old dog whining and crapping, and I'm trying to shove the sheets (after scraping off vomit) into my washer made for Lilliputians.
On a positive note, I realized that I had forgotten to take out the garbage...
I finally get back upstairs to find that the old STUPID dog has made it halfway down the stairs. I get to carry him back up and finally clean up his shit (at least it was nice and firm-- sadly that is a bright spot).
Now I'm on to combing out vomit from my daughter's hair. She is continuing to be a good sport:
"Look, Mommy, it's night time!"
Yes, yes, it is.
I get her all situated, depukified, dressed and off to bed in her room, because my bed is off limits. We only have 1 mattress cover and 1 mattress pad because we rarely vomit in bed. The kids all have back up's. Anyhow, my room smells like vomit, so I Febreze it to death and immediately start sneezing.
The sheets are done, so then I move on to the mattress cover - since I can't do anything until the bottom layer is done.
Charlie, the old dog, of course is whining and starts to roll down the stairs. AAAHHH. I get him halfway and take him outside. He doesn't have to pee. He just wanted some company.
Then I see Dixie, the young healthy dog, tear past us with a doll.
So I chase her. It's 3 am.
I try to get the doll- back-- I hear my daughter yelling "DIXIE HAS MY DOLL!!!!"-
So now I'm chasing her around the backyard using the verbal skills I acquired in a prior life as a drunken sailor and the dog thinks I want to play. I'm tired, smell like vomit and really don't have time for this.
I retrieve the doll, tuck my baby back in and then go to start the next load.
Now there is water all over the floor.
The stupid GIANT mattress cover was too much for the washer.
At this point I decided to grab a hard lemonade. I have drank alone exactly one other time in my life. I went on Facebook to lament. And people found it funny.
Those great friends I chatted about in my last blog?? Same people who laughed at my misery.
And I realized I had left Charlie downstairs. Whining.
So halfway through the lemonade, I decided I am not the type to drink alone, it's 4:30 am (I had to mop up the floor), I trudged back down the stairs to get my moronic old dog who hates to admit that I have to carry him and I decided to crash on the couch. I think I finally fell asleep around 5:30 or so.
Then my friend Renee called at 8 am to thank me for helping yesterday. She logically assumed that since I had kids, it was a weekday that I would be awake. I told her normally that would be a safe assumption...
Once we chatted, I checked out the condition of the washer, figured it was a balance issue (which I could relate to completely) and threw in the last load.
I spent the rest of the morning wrestling with the @((#*&$(*&# mattress cover on the #(*$&#(*$& ginormous bed. Picture me, exhausted, holding one corner down, then running around to the opposite corner before the last one pops up since I can't reach both sides at once... thank goodness my daughter was sleeping or she would have learned some new language- similar to what my neighbors heard at 3 am.
The good news, I have a coffee maker and I didn't have to go to work. I was able to finish up everything in my jammies and my assistant is doing everything else.
Even better, my daughter just had the Too Much Junk Food flu, was completely fine and kept me laughing all day. We made cupcakes for her birthday tomorrow. We saw "Chipwrecked"-- not the best movie to see if you're exhausted-- the shrill Chipmunk voices (and there are fewer people in this one, I think) are like nails on a chalkboard. But she loved it. We had a great dinner. We bought some cool stuff for her "girls night" birthday tomorrow with her best friends. When we were icing the cupcakes before bed, she licked the bowl. We had a "sample" one and she stopped halfway through and said "Mommy, I think I had enough with the icing..."
She is now in my bed, with a bucket and a towel next to her.
Wish me luck.