Okay folks! My computer was broken again for a while, plus Brent was here, so I didn't post much. I'm back! Brent left this afternoon at 3:30. I was dreading this visit because of my anticipation of the horrible emotions surrounding saying goodbye, but it wasn't that bad. I was definately looking forward to Brent's visit--I just didn't want to have to say goodbye again! I don't know if it is because his graduation is closer (one month!!), or because this is the last time I have to say goodbye, or because this baby takes all my energy and I didn't have much left to devote to feeling sad; whatever the reason, I wasn't that sad. Ayden was. I cried because he cried. It was so aweful to watch his crumpled up, red face, and his little paw waving goodbye to his awesome daddy...
But I didn't feel too sad for myself. Which is good. I've a job to do, and it's nice to be able to just do it without farting around with heavy emotion.
Matthew was cheerful.
I'd like to do a small comparison for you, of my Tuesday last week (the 19th) and my Tuesday this week (the 25th).
Tuesday the 19th:
Wake up at 7:00 as Ayden is peeing his pants on the soon-to-be-discarded rug (accident #13...I have since put him back in pullups for the sake of sanity )
Cut my toe on the exposed carpet nails on the stairs as I run down to find clean underwear for Ayden.
Leave at 9:00 for Dr.'s office to get Ayden's wart treated again. Hit construction. Am late for appointment.
Leave at 11:00 for my physio appointment in Chilliwack, get there and realize I've forgotten my wallet (costs $60 for physio). Thankfully they let me pay with a cheque, but how embarrassing.
During my physio appointment, Matthew pees in his underwear just enough to require removal of said underwear, but not enough to need new pants. Did not bring extra underwear OR pants.
Five minutes later, Ayden pees his pants enough to wet my physiotherapist's rug quite nicely.
I brought the portable DVD player and a movie to entertain the boys as I had no childcare option that day, and they did not watch it, nor sit still.
On the drive home my friend who was supposed to help me pull out the remaining carpet in my bedroom and move my bedroom furniture for me (large, strong man friend with other man friend supposedly in tow) calls and says he can't make it. So I'm stranded, pregnant, sick, tired, with no help to move heavy furniture and old soggy carpet. Carpet layers are coming with new carpet in less than 48 hours.
We finally get home and I go upstairs to use my ensuite toilet, and promptly plug it. The plunger is in the boys' bathroom, behind a wall of furniture and boxes, entirely inaccessable until after the new carpet is in. Awesome. The toilet will have to wait.
Ayden yells from downstairs, "I NEED TO GO POO! I NEED YOUR HELP TO PULL DOWN MY PANTS!!" So I rush down to help him.
Matthew decides he, also, has to poo, so I'm trying to rush Ayden off the toilet so Matthew can use it, when I hear Matthew in my bathroom upstairs. I panic, rush upstairs, and arrive in time to see his fresh poop floating on top of the full, clogged toilet. Well, that will be nice and ripe in a few days when I finally have access to the plunger.
Suddenly I clue in: Matthew is about to FLUSH THE TOILET! I YELL: "DON'T FLUSH!" but it's too late. He's already flushed. And now we have a poo flood.
I'm sorry to say that I did not use nice words.
"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" (wash my mouth out with soap...but come on, it was an aweful thing) and poor Matthew thinks I'm yelling at him, but I'm not, and Ayden's yelling from the downstairs toilet,
"What's wrong, mommy?"
And poor Matthew is backing away, his feet covered in poo flood,
I immediately sweep him out of the water, take off his socks, and try to reassure him,
"IT'S OKAY!! IT'S OKAY!!! MOMMY'S NOT MAD AT YOU! MOMMY'S MAD AT THE TOILET! YOU DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG!!!!" and then I realize that I'm still yelling! I'm still yelling. So Matthew's not really registering WHAT I'm saying; instead he is still crying because I'm still yelling.
Funny how "Fuck" and "I love you" don't really matter in a moment like this one; it matters far more HOW I speak than what I say...at least to a panicked three year old...
So I calm my voice down and clean up the poo flood (leaving the towels in the shower for my husband to deal with when he got home three days later...ha ha ha...). I shake my head that this is actually happening to me, and THEN I start to laugh. I was thinking about how I'd share this day with you, blogreaders, and how funny it would sound, and how I would laugh and laugh as I wrote it. Don't worry, Matthew calmed down pretty quickly as soon as I moderated my voice and told him it wasn't his fault. Really, you train and train a child to flush the toilet when they're done, and then the ONE MOMENT when it's inappropriate to flush of course he can't know it. Oh, what a day.
It got better from there: my brother in law, sister in law, and father in law rescued me that afternoon by moving my furniture and helping me rip out the remaining old carpet. Hooray! And the boys were so great the rest of the day. We had some good laughs.
Now, I'd like to tell you about this Tuesday, the 25th.
Woken at 6:20 by excited three and four year olds, with news that Santa had visited.
Open stockings, gifts, eat leasurely breakfast cooked by dear husband, and enjoy christmas tree.
At 10:00, drive to in-laws place for more gifts, family time, and huge turkey dinner.
Sleep most of afternoon. Totally get away with this because I am pregnant. And legitimately tired/nauseaus.
Eat awesome dinner.
Go home at 8:00, crawl in bed and read while dear husband puts children to bed.
Blissfully drift off to sleep by 9:30.
I like this Tuesday better, don't you?
I'm working tomorrow, next day, Sunday, and Monday. Will post when I can.
p.s. will upload pix when I find the camera cable I so winsomely dipped in paint a few weeks ago...