Todd is gone this week. How's it going so far?
Monday evening:
Micah slips and cuts his mouth on one of our lawn chairs. Blood
everywhere. MEDIC!
Tuesday morning:
Upon arrival at
daycare, I realize Micah has no diapers and will probably end up wearing paper
towels by the end of the day. I fetch four out of the diaper bag and cross my
fingers they last the day. MOM FAIL.
Early Wednesday
morning:
The smoke alarm goes off at 2:30 AM. I freak the hell out
before realizing it's a low battery issue, and I will not, in fact, be chucking
flaming cats out the bedroom window while a stranger holds my wailing child
outside. Then I had to climb up on a chair and wrestle batteries out while
standing on tiptoe. At 3 AM. Potential for death or significant injury: HIGH,
but somehow avoided.
Wednesday morning:
Due to the 2:30 AM
adrenaline spike and the subsequent insomnia (example, 3:30 AM: OMG, we need
wills! RIGHT NOW. Let me begin mentally composing my last will and
testament...), I drag myself out of bed twenty minutes late. Micah wakes up
while I'm in the middle of washing my hair, of course, so now I'm hurrying to
get done and fetch him before he tries to climb out. I round the corner out of
the bathroom, moving at a fairly high rate of speed. All three cats sense a
moment of opportunity, and intersect right in my path. As two of them trip me,
the third and fattest ricochets back into my right leg, sweeping it behind me. I
stagger backwards and land on my freakishly-twisted right foot. Now my big toe
is twice the size it should be and turning black, and I can hardly walk.
Awesome. I would have saved you from the fire, you furry f**kers. IS THIS
HOW YOU REPAY ME?
Thursday:
Todd comes home and saves us
all from ourselves. Glory, glory, halleluiah!
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