Well, yesterday was interesting. The day started with a 2 year old asking to go to school. Can I bottle that up and uncork it when he is oh....say, 6? I am thinking he will be singing a different toon by then. It was cute that he wanted to "go to school and see my friends."
I cleaned up a collective pile that was getting out of control in our room. I was wrapping that up when my husband walked in and asked if I was starting something I wasn't going to be able to finish (today). The next words out of my mouth weren't these, but hindsight is 20/20 so I sure wish I had said: NO, ARE YOU?
I got out of the house to run an errand and knew that my husband would be bringing Kale to me. I was at the mall and got a call requesting that I come join them for a quick lunch. I said yes, waited my turn to pay for the stuff I was purchasing, and then walked the entire length of the mall back to my truck. I apparently wasn't fast enough. I looked down and had several missed calls and some texts...and a voicemail saying that lunch together was no longer happening, that Kale had dirty pants, and that they were waiting for me in the parking lot of our lunch destination. Lovely. Can I just keep driving? Or not. I retrieved Kale and WE managed to change him in the parking lot without any misplaced poop. Yes, this is my life...where I am talking about pee and poop more than anything else lately. Fun times.
We each got kisses goodbye as my husband headed out for his golf game. I took Kale to the park and then to lunch. We went home and both of us crashed into naptime. I got up in time to get a few things done before littel feet came running up the hallway. We went out into the garage and started tackling all the piles of stuff out there. Four million boxes later, we had made some progress. I convinced our neighbor to cut a few inches off of our new screen door so that it could be hung and not forever live in our garage. The old screen door pretty much disassebled itself. Kale's wagon is no longer holding my free Walgreens purchases from several weeks ago. I started disassebling the boxes and managed to hurt my thumb in the process. The injury involved a hook/bladed type devide and a chunk (still attached) of my thumb. Not pretty. Kale and I took a walk over to the neighbor's house just in case I got too woozy and fell into a puddle. I didn't, but at one point I was afraid I would.
My husband brought home pizza and it was quickly clear that he never ate lunch. Holy smokes stay out of his ravenous cranky way! Despite the fact that I went back to working in the garage after supper, I had visitors who joined me out there and also inform me that I was apparently supposed to give Kale a bath and put him to bed. What happened after that wasn't pretty. We'll just summarize and say that I can still wrestle our two year old out of his clothes, am not afraid of getting drenched in bathwater, and my husband is good at sitting there watching those things unfold. I put Kale to bed. My husband helped me re-dress/sanitize my thumb. I went back to work in the garage. My husband went to bed.
I went headed to bed around midnight and before I even got into bed, Kale was joining us in bed. He kicked my husband all night. I can't say that I don't think my husband had it coming....
And that my friends, was our Fifth of July. I think next year that maybe I will have a different kind of fifth of something on standby...