Monday, June 11, 2012

when it rains...

It all started when Frances woke up on the wrong side of the crib this morning.  From the time Andrew picked her up, it was clear that it would be a long day.  Unless she was sleeping, she was grabbing her sweet little gums and fussing.

Barnes began spitting up before we had even gotten to our 9:00 nap.  He proceeded to spit up at least 7 times throughout the day.  He was fussy, clingy, and just not himself.  When changing his diaper around 11:00, I discovered a rash.  I took off his onesie and found the same rash under both of his arms and down one side.  A viral rash, the pediatrician thinks.  Awesome.

Needless to say, when the clouds broke and the sun began shining this afternoon, I strapped those babies in the stroller faster than you can imagine.  The babies, the dogs and I all needed a little outdoor time.  Since it had been raining all morning, I thought to myself, "I should stay really close to home just in case."  With the sun beaming down and the first bit of peace and quiet I had experienced all day, however, my brain went into auto-pilot and I began my usual route.  At the back of the neighborhood, something clicked.  "How did I end up a mile from my house?  I meant to just do loops....I should definitely turn around."  That's when I felt the first rain drop.  Within seconds, we were in a summer downpour.

Let me paint a picture for you.  All day, Barnes had been pulling at my v-neck t-shirt, stretching the neck to the point that it was falling off one shoulder a bit revealing a little not-so-sexy sports bra. I am in the process of weaning from nursing, so this is not the opportune time for a wet t-shirt contest (or maybe it is...).  As you can imagine, I looked a bit trash-tastic wading through the neighborhood with my double stroller and my two dogs, who now looked like tiny hamsters on leashes.

Finally in the safety of my own garage, I looked at my drenched babies and dogs and laughed.  Yes...there was nothing left to do but laugh.  That is, until in the process of trying to get the babies/dogs/mom dried, I stepped barefoot into a puddle of spit up.  That's where the laughing ended.

Maybe the billable hour wasn't so bad.........

1 comment:

  1. Oh, Jess, what a simultaneously funny/exhausting story! And as someone entrenched in the billable hour, I will remind you that daily hours 1 - 6 aren't that bad, it's hours 7, 8, 9+ that are!