auspicious

It has been a truly amazing day. And it's only 2 p.m.

Superness started last night, when I became addicted to playing Webkinz.

I multi-tasked in the bathroom before bed, removing my contacts while sitting on the toilet. Let's just say that today I am wearing a brand-new left contact. Because once you accidentally drop a contact on your underwear, the next place it goes is IN THE GARBAGE. Or the toilet, if that's where you happen to be at that exact moment.

I awoke to Miss O shouting about how her throat hurt, and her head hurt and how she ABSOLUTELY WAS NOT EVER GOING TO SCHOOL AGAIN AND I WANT TO MAKE MRS. TEACHER SOMETHING SPECIAL OUT OF PIPE CLEANERS AND DON'T YOU TELL ME I HAVE TO GET DRESSED BECAUSE I AM WEARING MY PAJAMAS ALL DAY LONG DOOR SLAM

And then she ran into the bathroom and worshipped the porcelain throne. But not *ACTUAL* worshipping. Just the imitation kind, where is sounds like actual porcelain throne worship but nothing, umm, materializes.

Have I ever mentioned HOW MUCH I CAN'T DEAL WITH VOMIT, REAL OR TRYING, WHEN I'M PREGNANT? Or not pregnant, for that matter?

Moving on.

So Miss O happily crawled back into bed to read some books.

Cue: Wee Man.

I'M NOT GOING TO SCHOOL. KICKING. SCREAMING UNINTELLIGIBLE LANGUAGE, LIKE RUSSIAN PIG-LATIN. I. NOT. GOING. INOTGOING. INOTGOING. I NOTGOING. Ad nauseum.

After sitting on Wee Man to a) clothe him, b) shoe him, and c) put his jacket on him, all the while being a) punched in the eyes, b) kicked in the, well, everywhere, and c) bit... I KNOW?!?!? WHO BITES THESE DAYS!?!?! I carried him down the street to school. Don't tell my midwife, or that crazy scheduling lady who is a semi-pro high-risk pregnancy diagnoser.

We stopped at my in-laws house to sit on the porch, or wrestle sitting down for a minute, which is a more accurate description. Eventually Wee Man was at school, and after a series of lies and half-truths, I went home. Alone.

Please note: HB and Miss O were home with their ever-loving, ever-helpful Grandma. They were not alone, so don't even get your shaking fingers out today. Because I just can't deal.

Miss O was begging for food, doing all kinds of super tricks, standing on her head and doing ballet when I returned. Turns out, there's a BIG OL' school assembly today, and the music teacher has been teaching the kids a song that everyone will sing with the guitar guy who is coming. She had Miss O all freaked out about performing in a BIG OL' CONCERT, when in reality, the kids are probably sitting in the auditorium in the comfy seats, sing-a-long style.

Also, there's a New Kid in her class. It seems that New Kid has some serious issues that lead him to be completely disruptive, screaming and yelling and throwing himself on the floor of the classroom two-year-old style. Er, three-year-old style, if you're in my house. New Kid has been there for, well, this is the fourth day, and he's already being shadowed by the principal. The principal has been spending the entire week in this kindergarten class, trying to help with the 'behavior issue'. Miss O has had entirely enough of the disruption, and has been taking it out on all of us. Teacher, who is about the perkiest person to walk the earth, she's the kindergarten teacher poster grown-up, looks a little ragged.

Miss O and I chatted about things, and she decided she wanted to go to school.

Grandma picked Wee Man up, now totally happy and having a blast. Until I came in the door from dropping off Miss O.

Then it was Round Two. Poor HB was sitting at the table, eating his soup, when I hauled Wee Man upstairs. I sat on Wee Man again, until he stopped trying to kick my ass.

Which took 40 minutes.

Then he passed out, and I ran downstairs to fetch the now-crying HB, who was out of soup and chocolate milk, and was also sitting in a very messy diaper.

And now it's happy hour. It's a good thing that I only need to move my fingers right now, because every muscle in my body is exhausted.

Oh--and The Mister is working overtime. Of course.