It was a busy weekend. Busy to say the least. On Saturday, we'd gotten dressed, had breakfast, gone to the pediatrician, gone to Target, administered medications, and been on a Easter Egg hunt all before noon. It was just one of those weekends where plans and errands abounded and I had no time to get any housework done.
I woke up this morning, late. Both children slept all night long in their own beds and didn't rise until 7AM (Merry Christmas, Mommy!) I've had this awful cold for going on two weeks, so Nelson got Miles dressed and popped both boys in bed with me where we remained until 7:45AM.
In truth, it was a little lovely. If I didn't feel so awful, I would have enjoyed it. And, you know, if I hadn't realized all the crap I had to do that didn't get done on the weekend. I put away some laundry only to realize that while I had brought one of the baskets up with me at bedtime last night, Nelson had opted to leave the second basket of clean, folded laundry waiting for me at the foot of the stairs. To be fair, I didn't specifically ask him to bring the laundry upstairs. But doesn't clean laundry just BEG to be brought upstairs? Right?
Let me also add while upstairs, Miles got his fingers closed in a door and a drawer in with is incessant desire to 1) drive me crazy and 2) get into absolutely EVERYTHING.
We got downstairs around 8AM and I realized I needed to vacuum. There was audible crunching when I walked. Gross. But you know, my (selfish) children INSISTED upon being fed and watered first. I go to cut some bread for toast to realize we have none, which means I have to make bread today. I gave Oscar a Cliff bar and put Miles in the high chair with some Cheerios and drinkable yogurt.
I did manage to get my vacuuming done, and run down and throw in some diapers, and pour myself (but not drink) a cup of lukewarm coffee. As soon as I put the coffee carafe down, Oscar ran into the kitchen, "Mommy! I pooped on the floor! I have poop on my leg and in my socks! Waaa!" Sure enough, a pile of watery poop was on the floor. Oh, and enter my terrible dogs who I'd let out to use the bathroom. They picked this moment to start barking like assholes.
I grab Oscar and rush him upstairs and put him in the bathtub to strip him. There's poop everywhere. It's a hosing off situation. But then I remember I had an egg cooking on the stove. So I leave my poop covered toddler in the (empty) tub so I can go turn off the stove. Downstairs, Miles is whining in his highchair and my dogs are barking their faces off to come in. But I can't let them in because there's a pile of poop on the floor. Okay, it was raining out, but they were sitting on my dry, enclosed back porch. THEY WERE FINE.
I got back up, hose Oscar off, change him, and we go back downstairs. I give Miles his egg, cleaned up the poop, let in the dogs, fed them, cleaned up their muddy paw prints, made myself and egg, and finally drank some coffee.
After cleaning up from breakfast (this also involved running interference on Miles, who was alternately playing in the garbage and looting the pantry), I started some bread. I decided to to a Honey Oatmeal Whole Wheat bread, so I was boiling water. Just as the kettle whistled, I hear a crash from the dining room. Oscar had gotten in the craft box (which I'd also gotten out because it's raining here) and was basically tossing stuff on the floor - foam stickers, little pom poms, pipe cleaners. And Miles was stuffing said things in his mouth.
I removed all small choke-able pieces from Miles' mouth, sent the boys into the living room to hang out with Danny (who was playing nicely this whole time my children were ransacking the place), and cleaned the mess.
All of this went down prior to 10AM.