I had a dream last night that I was James Bond. That was essentially the highlight of my day.
I woke up in the middle of my dream to my alarm. With extreme annoyance, I turned it off, buried it under the blankets, and curled up in Jeffrey's arms. That is my favorite part of the morning; nestling close, and having his strong arms around me. Sigh. I can't wait for morning now.
I shouldn't have hidden the alarm under my covers. I didn't hear it go off again, and was then late for Church. When I was finally coherent enough to look at the clock, I sprang out of my bed, cursing James Bond and the warmth and softness of my dream state.
I rushed around getting everyone up and ready. Jeffrey and I made some breakfast. It was a team effort. And then...
... the cat threw up all over the floor. In my hurry, I ignored it and stepped over it every time I had to pass. Jeffrey, like the good man he is, cleaned it up.
I went into my room to get dressed, and panicked. For 10 minutes I rushed around the house like a crazy woman. I couldn't find my bra. I searched through all the clothes baskets, the hamper, the floor, under the bed. I tore apart the bathroom, hoping by some miracle I would find it behind the washer or dryer. Near tears of frustration, I gave up the search for the moment and decided to eat some breakfast. As I was stirring my mush, I saw something. It was my bra. On me. I still can't remember putting it on this morning, but it was certainly there.
As I was getting Faye ready I heard Keith yell something about poop. I was too distracted to pay much attention. Which, as anyone with half a brain can tell you, is a bad idea. I put the girl down, and hurried off to throw my hair up and slap some mascara on my face, and then be ready. I helped Keith button his shirt correctly, and went back into the living room to put on my socks and shoes.
Meanwhile, Faye had found the sugar, carried it into the living room, and commenced to have a feast.
Church was wonderful. I am in the nursery, and we had 18 monkeys in place of the usual 18 kids. Something must have been in the water today, because it wasn't just my kids bent on making mischief.
When we got home from church, the house smelled like the funk. Like some old person had decided to host a party while we were gone, and then everyone attending the party had hidden under the floor boards and died. It was horrible. We decided to put the kids down for naps. Faye was easy. She always is. Just lay her in the crib, she wiggles for a minute, and then is off to the land of Nod. Keith, though, is a team effort. After I had kissed him and Jeffrey was tucking him, I walked towards the door.
Something big and brown and squished was on the floor.
Squished because a shoe had stepped on it.
And it smelled bad.
And then I remembered the something Keith had yelled to me this morning about poop that I distractedly ignored. He told me there was poop on his floor. I should have listened. I have since learned my lesson.
And that is how the Day of Rest went for us.
On another note, I just have to say what a funny boy Keith is.
struggly bed. He is priceless.