Spring forward...more like a flop head first into the mud!

Daylight savings is supposed to be a good thing right? Oh it's wonderful....a week after it begins, in the afternoons when you're trying to wear your kids down so they actually sleep.  It's not fun the night of.  Not only do you lose an hour of sleep, but in our case, the universe smiles down and says "Hey, you see that one.  She's been a whole 2 days without a sleepness night.  Pretty sure she's got plans tomorrow too.  Let's play with her.  She's funny when she flips her lid!" And they laugh and laugh, and suddenly the ceiling caves in, a kid throws up, and another whines all night long.

Oh yea, that wasn't an exaggeration. That literally happened....2 nights in a row!!

It's rained here, like monsooned here, for almost a week. Fine and good. We need a new roof. Noted. The high winds and torrential rains created even more havoc. I walked into the bathroom and noticed a soaked roll of toilet paper on the counter.  My first thought was "these kids!" I thought someone had dropped it in the toilet and just fished it out and left it there. No, that wasn't the case.  The first practical joke was in the form of a steady drip down the exhaust fan in the bathroom....right into the jar holding my flat iron.  Sheer panic was the first reaction.  That flat iron and I have been through 10 years!! It took 100 different flat irons to find the perfect one! The images of it's funeral were flashing through my head, with me in the background hyperventilating. Onward.

We laid down Saturday evening. We went to bed early, because we got a little wild Friday and stayed up too late.  Kids were down by 8:30, and we were right behind em! Not 2 hours in, we hear "Daddy! I frew up!"  OH that's not cool! Sure enough, it was everywhere! Sheets stripped, bed changed, kid cleaned up. Ding!! Round 1 complete.  Back to sleep.

Another 2 hours went by of in and out of consciousness, when I hear an odd sound.  "It's outside. It's just raining" he said. No it wasn't.  Something was dripping in my closet! Lights on all around, and upon investigation it was dripping, just not in the closet.  It was dripping in the attic above the closet, but because the insulation was soaked, the sheet rock fell in.  AWESOME!!!! Nothing to be done that late.  I would just clean up in the morning and call the landlord.  Back to bed. Ding! Round 2 done. 

Maybe 30 minutes went by when the second round of "Wiz, I frew up again." Wait. What?! You never ask for my help! You only ever call dad! Why is it suddenly my turn?! Fine.  I'll go, because I have stated more than once when he decided to ask me for help, I'd drop everything and go.  So, I did. Thankfully not much eruption.  Clean kid, clean pillow, new blanket. Ding!! Round 3 complete.

My head didn't so much as hit the pillow, after I tripped over the 16 pairs of shoes I keep leaving at the foot of the bed when the whambulance came through.  Every parent should know exactly what this is.  It's not a cry.  It's not a whale. It is the annoying whine of a kid who has no clue what he wants. "Whaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh, whhhaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh...." You get the idea.  ALL. NIGHT. LONG. Nothing helped. Nothing soothed. And finally, I just gave up.  Good night.

6 am. The sun was shining through, and I was beyond exhausted, but I heard the slight moan of a tiny human, and I knew.  I knew that sound! That was the "I'm going to hurl, or maybe explode" moan.  If you think parents can't fly, wait until they hear that moan.  I launched across that room without touching the floor.  I soared around the corner, through the hall and across the second bedroom again, without touching much and with no sound.  That sweet little boy thought I was going to throw him, I snatched so fast. He was grabbing at the door frames as we soared together into the bathroom.  I meant he was going to hit the toilet with the spewage that time, if it killed me.  I was not cleaning up another round of sheets, clothes etc.  I don't do vomit! I could tell it scared him.  I don't think he'd ever seen his Wiz move that fast. All was good.  Calmed him down, no changes necessary, and I was determined to get at least another hour of sleep.  Ding...round 4 down, and my reserves were shot.

Aannndddd the whambulance was back.

Another 45 minutes, and suddenly it was my turn to assist in toiletry habits again.  I'm all about helping, but can it please be someone else's turn? Dad's still snoozing, or pretending or something, but he surely wasn't moving.  He swears he was up all night, but I beg the differ.

By the time 8 am arrived, I was up.  Awake. Wired. Everyone seemed to feel better and off for the day we went.  No activity all day long....and then the sun went down.  It was the nicest day.  The sun was so bright. The breeze was so breezy.  The sun went down, and the demons were back.  The rain was back with a vengeance. Tornado sirens were blaring all around.  The baby didn't have but a small nap in the afternoon.  So, why at midnight was he still awake?!

Aaaaaaaannnnnnnnddddddd another visit from the whambulance.  "Whaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh, whhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh, whhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh..." For hours.  No gum numb, no juice, no crackers, no loving, no sleep, no hugs, no holding. NOTHING CURED HIS MISERY. Finally I just decided to let him cry it out.  Until I heard that sound.... that "I'm going to hurl. It hurts so bad. My guts are going to explode." sound.

My neck hurts. I'm exhausted.  I've washed the same sheets twice, all the pillows, the kids and now the crib linens and the baby again too.  But hey, the suns going to be out an extra hour this afternoon right? Daylight savings is grand!