The Sorely Trying Day

DOB wanted me to chronicle last Friday in the hopes that we would reread it next year and remember to watch a fireworks display close to home. It's so difficult to recapture the overwhelming nature of everyday difficulties, but I will try.

So we were all tired and cranky after not only staying out past eleven on Tuesday night, but leaving for the airport a six on Thursday morning to welcome home DOB's sister and a friend from Taiwan. We survived Thursday surprisingly well, but when Friday came we were all quite tired.

D1 and I spent the morning at loggerheads over the issue--I'm sure I could have settled this in five minutes on a normal day--of whether her baby and bear could drink real water or would have to settle for imaginary water. I finally distracted her with playdough. (Anyone who thinks small children have a short attention span has never encountered them in their natural habitat.) D2 climbed around on things and clonked his head intermittently, as is his custom, with a bit more crankiness than usual.

We went to the chiropractor, which was a good diversion, and when we got home it was nearly eleven. All the better, I thought, we'll have an early lunch and then I'll put them to bed. I was more than ready for both, myself. I soon realized I had forgotten to feed D2 since early that morning, and as far as he was concerned, lunch should have started half an hour ago. So I begged him to give me a couple of minutes to attend to some personal business, and then I settled down to nurse him. D1, meanwhile, was beginning to protest that she wanted some lunch, too. My tolerance level for other people's misery was skating close to zero. Still, I thought, if I can just make it to naptime.

Then I heard running water. It was not any appliance obligingly doing its work without my input. It was the toilet, and by the time I realized what it was and got in there, two crying children following me, the bathroom was an inch deep in water. Despite an overwhelming wave of panic, I managed to stop the water by unorthodox means, threw any towels within sight on the floor, shut the door and went back to feeding D2.

We were mostly through with his feeding when D1 asked to go potty. This could not be done in the customary spot, but we went to the other bathroom. Unfortunately, it was too late. Doubly unfortunately, it was her first accident of the day, which meant she was still in regular underwear and there was a puddle at some unknown location amidst all the boxes and piles of things to be put in boxes. D2 cried some more.

I went back into the other bathroom to get dry pants and realized water was seeping under the door into the carpet. I grabbed all the remaining towels in the house and threw them on the floor. This helped, but now I needed a place to put them, which required taking the drying rack covered with clean diapers and pants out of the tub. Since I never did figure out where my bag of clothespins went after the Christmas pageant, none of them were attached and several items fell off into the lake.

D2 was still crying. I set him in his chair and tried to finish his breakfast leftovers, but he was too tired to really eat. D1 had found the experience of using Papa's potty so thrilling that she wanted to repeat it, even though she didn't need to go. I had her sit down and eat lunch, but she whined through most of it and finally declared herself all done and ready for a nap. I declared D2 the same and put them both down as quickly as I could. It was not quite noon. I sat down and ate a little myself, as I cannot sleep on an empty stomach, and lay down to take a nap.

Usually, on a day like that, everyone sleeps a long, long time and awakes in a much better disposition. I think they were too hungry to sleep long. Anyway, D1 woke up at one o'clock, just as I had had enough nap to get thoroughly groggy. I figured he was still hungry and fed him some more. He ate obligingly but showed no interest in going back to sleep. I decided I didn't care and at least he would be safe in his playpen. So I put him back down and ignored his occasional protests. By this time D1 was beginning to protest, too, but my legs were unwilling to move.

At about two I finally gathered enough strength to get up and go get D1, who was protesting with good cause, having had another accident. The bathroom still wasn't clean. D2 wanted to follow the action wherever it went. The house looked like Thing 1 and Thing 2 had just visited. I was still too tired to move.

DOB, meanwhile, had been apprised of the situation and did what he could: he called his sister and entourage to come over and help. The thought of people actually seeing the state things were in moved me, and after sitting down and reading a few stories the ducklings were in a better mood for playing alone, so I frantically cleaned up the bathroom, put the surviving hanging laundry away, cleared the dining room table and consolidated the dishes into the sink. There was plenty left to ask for help, which they graciously supplied.

I'm still tired, although today it's been complicated by trying to play softball yesterday and being too stiff to move. What I want is a workout, a leg massage, three hours alone to clean up the house, and someone else to fix dinner. What I might get, if I work hard, is a workout and half an hour of intermittent opportunities to get dinner and the dishes moved along.

But at least the toilet hasn't overflowed so far!