Oh Monday How I Do Loath Thee...

I drug myself out of bed at 5:30 this morning to hold back my daughters hair as she puked all over the floor about 3 feet from the toilet. It just wouldn't be a true Monday if she had made that extra 3 feet. It took 3 freshly washed towel to clean up.(hint:you should avoid washing all your towels at once just so you have some dirty ones for times like this).

Once that was taken care of I still had two healthy (or so I thought) children to get ready for school. So feeling extra gross I wake the other children up and lay out their clothes. Make breakfast, and then go wake them up again. This time dragging them out of bed. After breakfast and clothes comes the argument about brushing teeth and why they can't use bubblegum flavored toothpaste. I have, on past mornings explained to them about artificial sweeteners, but because it is Monday the answer is "because I said so" which leads to lots of foot stomping that I am sure the downstairs neighbor did not appreciate.

Out the door to the bus stop and then I get to sit, but not for long. After all DD just threw up her breakfast so of course she is hungry again. It is times like this that I am tempted to use sweetened boxed cereals, but no. My little one is sick and needs all the help her immune system can get. So I pull out a jar of left over chicken bone broth and start heating it, all with the little one watching me silently.

Once the broth is fully heated and in front of her I am told that her tummy doesn't hurt anymore and she wants oatmeal. Debating whether I should deal with an argument with a 5 year old or just make the oats I decide to just give her some quick (unsoaked because I had no time to prepare) oats. Sometimes you just have to choose your battles.

So now you think I get to sit down again. No. The phone rings DS is in the nurses office because he got sick in the boys bathroom at school. So DD finishes her breakfast and I get her in the car. We almost make it all the way to school before she throws up oatmeal all over the back seat. (good bye new car smell)

Run in the school. Pick up son, get home. Wash off daughter. Sit down leaving car a mess for now. My husband can deal with that. And if he even thinks about complaining...well he will regret it.