It started like every other day, with Esther standing by the bed waking me up at the crack of dawn to tell me she had wet the bed. Me clumsily climbing up the stairs, feeling that her bed was not too wet, throwing down a towel over it, and telling her to get back in bed. Then I walked back down the stairs to try to go back to sleep only to hear Thomas crying over the monitor. Did I jump out of bed and race back up the stairs to retrieve him? Of course not. I turned off the monitor so his screaming would not wake up Eve and closed my eyes for a few minutes longer. Eventually guilt overcame me and I got up to rescue him.
The rest of the morning went along fairly smoothly. The kids were playing upstairs while I was attempting to change out Thomas's clothes when the door bell rang. Not expecting anyone, I was slightly alarmed, but figured it was probably the man who is supposed to be grinding up a stump for us in the next couple days. I rushed down the stairs while yelling at the kids to not open the door and giving them a lesson in strangers after being asked why they shouldn't open said door. I threw on a bra and ran to the door. As I eluded to above, I get rather anxious when strange people come to the door. I just imagine someone throwing open the door and leaving me defenseless with four small children to protect. I have been known to hide and not open the door and then frantically throw the door open and chase down the florist when Brian sent me flowers. All this to say, ordinarily I probably would not have opened the door but assuming it was the stump guy, I did. Imagine my fears, when standing in front of me was a man with long gray hair who appeared as though he had not bathed in quite some time wearing ragged clothes that were duct taped together. I almost slammed the door on him when he said, "Mrs. Hughes? I'm here to weathering your sprinkler system." Apparently one of Brian's patients had sent him over to help us out. Brian did not know he was coming and therefore had not given me his usual strangers are coming by so please answer the door warning call. He was super nice and made me feel a little bad for being scared of him, but honestly, he could have been completely manicured and wearing a three piece suit and I still would have slammed the door in his face in fear.
Things settled down again after the doorbell excitement until I thought it would be a good idea to go to the grocery store. Never a good idea with four kids, especially at noon. Finally after telling Esther to get dressed and get her shoes on fifteen hundred times and her walking out with two pairs of pants on , a shortsleeved shirt (despite it being 40 degrees outside), Eve's socks on her hands (her 'Gloves') and Elmo house shoes, we were off. The trip actually went really smoothly other than Thomas somehow getting a black eye unbeknownst to me while sitting in the car on the front of the basket. We leave the store and load into the car. Thirty invites later when we are still in the parking lot a lady comes running after us carrying more of our groceries that we had left behind.
We finally drive home, unload, and I start making lunch. While trying to make lunch, Noah starts yelling at me that Esther had diarrhea and he needs so e help wiping her (no, he is not allowed to wipe his sister). I get her taken care of and then rush upstairs with Thomas to change maybe the foulest smelling diaper ever. When I come back down, I look at Esther and question why her hair is now soaking wet. Noah ever so matter of factly says , " I sprayed her." It was then I noticed the can of air freshener in his hand and smelled the overwhelming scent of pumpkin spice. Awesome.
The kids do all ate lunch. We battled it out over taking naps, and then I came down the stairs and treated myself to a now black banana despite having been purchased just an hour before (pretty sure it had been dropped multiple times) and some chocolate milk. And that is where I now still sitting in the same chair, thinking about all the things I should be doing right now, but unable to remove myself from the chair. To quote Brian when he is trying to make me feel guilty about not wanting to do something with the kids, "These are the moments!"
