Tuesday is the New Monday.

My morning. By K.J.B.

I have not eaten breakfast. I have not gotten dressed. It’s now noon. It’s one of those days.

Some things just need to be documented. It helps on days when you think it's a bad day, so upon looking back, see it could be much worse, or vice versa - that this day can only get better. We had been up 3 1/2 hrs when I decided it was time for a blog. (By the time I get this posted, it probably will be another hour later than that, but just for drama, imagine with me that this all occurred within the first 3 1/2 hrs of our day. Ok? Because it did.) (Post note: it's now 4 hrs later. Just goes to show... And no, dear, I did not spend all that time online.)

Let's start with a little background.

Last night (and the whole of yesterday) I had an infant who wanted mama, and no one but mama, and to be held by mama, every lovin’ minute that passed. He was not his usual smiley, contented self. So I cooked dinner, set the table, served and cleared while wearing this chubby sad child. I did manage to set him in his Bumbo, facing me, while I ate, where he lasted 15 min without crying. Halleluja! I got to eat.

I'm not sure what was the cause of his discomfort. It could be a myriad of things, from teething, constipation/hard stools (I love formula), no nap (because he wouldn't, not because I didn't try). And to add another fun variable, I had watched my nephews on Saturday. Sunday morning my brother calls to tell me their littlest has Hand Foot Mouth. No big deal. We've had it before, multiple times. Nothing you can do, not life threatening, I just shrug and say "ok." (Mind you, I was thinking only Cheeks would be at risk.) But, when a mother has a sick baby, the plague is an option, so now HFM is an option for Lil’D.

At about 7pm, I go to give him a bottle, but the blanket I lay him on has been carried off by wolves, so I just lay him on the rug. A few minutes later, after he has ingested almost the entire bottle, I hear him choking, and look over to see he has barfed up the entire thing, on the rug, and his head is swimming in a pool of formerly eaten formula. Swoop him up, bathe him, change clothes, try and scoop up as much of the puddle as possible with whatever is laying closest (one of many shirts cast aside in the 1000 wardrobe changes of the diva princess KJ). I search for mouth sores. No avail. But he is still hungry and screaming. I give him 2-3 oz., watching carefully, as he lays in my arms, and he falls asleep with that sweet look of utter satisfaction and comfort babies get. You know the one. Limp noodle ahhh.

Bed time comes. Struggles abound. B-boy is still up at 10:30 (and later I find out he was tickling his sleeping father's feet at 10pm. Humor was not found.) Cheeks is still up at 11. Hubby needs sandwiches made and laundry done. Lil'D vomits again, this time in his crib. Change sheets, bathe, change clothes. Hubba Hubba wakes up less than happy. Vomit mess on rug goes unattended.

Thankfully, the night was much less eventful. Cheeks finally goes to sleep. Lil'D sleeps soundly, hardly waking, and is satisfied with half-bottles thru the night. I took a Sominex since the night before left me sleepless (a whole other story). I slept great! I didn’t even wake up when Hubba left for work at 2am.

Wake up. Baby the sick baby. Breakfast. Everyone eats except for B-boy. He gets dressed instead. Cartoons come on. B-boy decides now he wants to eat. Eats soggy cereal while sitting on a ladder. (Why is a ladder left in our kitchen, you might ask? I am wondering the same thing, since I do raise MONKEYS and they climb EVERYTHING!!!!!!) But 5 yr olds are not the most graceful or steady. I am oblivious to the fact that ladder-eating is going on, since I’m attending to a sick baby in another room. Suddenly… ah yes. Bada crash boom bang. Waaaaaaa! Yes, B-boy falls off the ladder. With cereal. And where do you think this bowl of sticky milk and cereal went? Why, everywhere, of course. The boy was uninjured. He did, however, learn about bad choices and consequences, as I spent the next 45 minutes giving him a tutorial on how to clean up your own mess when you make a bad choice. (I'm a firm believer in the "take responsibility for your actions" thing.) Hmmm. Many tears later, lesson learned. (I hope.)

Babies cry, toddlers want to be in on the action, mommy tortures 5 yr old. Only KJ was entertained. Thank heavens for Super Why.

Cheeks is very sort of potty training, and is running around without a diaper. Without anything on, actually. So I’m trying to get her on the pot as much as possible, to avoid more puddles. Or piles. We have snacks, then B-boy gets a bath because he’s wearing Crunch-N-Berries in his hair. It's a good excuse. He doesn't like to bath.

Meanwhile…. Well, of coarse there’s a meanwhile.

As I run the bathwater and get B-boy new clothes, Cheeks finds a missing dinner roll, now hard as a rock, and proceeds to smash it all over my living room.

Are you kidding me? It’s only 11! What ELSE is this day gonna bring?

And my husband wonders why the house is always a mess? Well, that's because I sit around eating bonbons and polishing my nails, darling.

So now, I have to not only do the dishes, laundry and general cleanup, I have to remove bread crumbs from furniture, wash down my entire kitchen (he did a good job for a 5yr old, but it’s far from clean), scrub the rug, and whatever else comes my way. Because the babysitter is coming tonight. Hopefully my sweet diva won’t spit on her this time. No. That's not a typo.