Before Church

Ms. Crazy Preschooler and I left the house for church at 8:45.

At 5:20 a.m. Ms. Crazy Preschooler crawled into my bed because she couldn't find her socks and her feet were cold, cold, cold, plus she needed a drink of water. I warmed her feet up and then crawled out of bed to get her a drink of water. I climbed back up to the attic to deliver the water and decided I might as well wrap the present for her Sunday School teacher, so I ventured down to the basement to do that.

No one was up so I decided to clean up the kitchen.

At 5:45, in the middle of cleaning the kitchen, Gus woke up again. He'd already been up once in the middle of the night with explosive diarrhea, and this time he smelled suspiciously of vomit, but it wasn't overhwelming, and I couldn't find any hard evidence. So I cleaned him up, found new pajamas, changed the sheets and took him to the couch with a glass of milk so he'd stop screaming. And as soon as he was done with the milk, he snuggled and snuggled and was gloriously happy, and I thought maybe, just maybe we were done with a grumpy week of teething and upset tummies.

At 6:40, Ms. Crazy Preschooler was back up, this time for the morning, demanding supper. I am working and working on the difference between supper, lunch and breakfast, but apparently this vocabulary is much more tricky than I realize. I climbed the attic stairs to wake up Dr. Pediatrician and ask him if Gus should go to church. He says Gus seems like he's feeling fine., Because I knew that it was going to take two people to get two kids ready to leave for church in an hour and a half (sounds ridiculous, I know, but oh so accurate), I reminded him to get out of bed. Dr. Pediatrician rose reluctantly, and I assigned him the duty of breakfast while I took a shower.

Only I forget that he forgets to clean as he goes, so when I got out of the shower, the kitchen was in worse shape than when I got up the first time.

I clean the kitchen again, finish breakfast and put Gus in the bathtub. Things are going well. While supervising Gus as he splashes away, I brush my teeth. I look over and suddenly the water looks murky. And then I realize it is my long dreaded nightmare: diarrhea in the bathtub.

I snatch Gus out of the tub, wrap him in a towel and hand him to Dr. Pediatrician, who is in the middle of locating tights and shoes for Ms. Crazy Preschooler. I walk back in the bathroom, and decide it isn't so bad. And then I bend over and start the drain, and realize it is very bad. Very very bad. Bad enough to make me sick. So I get a dishtowel, tie it around my nose, and a spoon and a paper cup, and when the water drains I start fishing out the chunks. And I disinfect. And rinse. Everything.

So much for the shower.

Dr. Pediatrician decides to stay home with Gus, and I take another shower (in the basement) and rush out the door.