Monday, November 24, 2014

Sunday + How To Destroy Your Favorite Sweatshirt

Yesterday I took all three boys to church for the first time. It was Jon's first time at church and the first time we had been in (insert guilty face) several weeks. I was prepared for the worst, but either my expectations are SUPER low lately, or my children were nearly angelic.

First, I picked up Jacob from "church school" (by the way, whoever had the genius idea of scheduling church school to start 20 minutes after the first mass and to end 20 minutes before the second mass, clearly doesn't have three kids to cart around all over town). Since we had time to kill, I let the kids run out their energy at a nearby park.

The result? My kids went to church like this:

During church, the kids were (relatively) amazing. I was in a huge rush to get out the door that morning and hadn't packed a single thing to keep the kids busy except for a snack bag of cereal. I usually bring books and crayons and other quiet knick-knacks. Go figure that the one time I don't bring these things, the kids actually behave.

Anyway, Jon slept the entire Mass in the Babybjorn and the older boys only got into three poking fights. Jacob only snuck of out the pew (and jammed into the knees of all the other pew occupants) three times to use the drinking fountain. Suspiciously, the second time he left, he didn't return for about ten minutes...hmmm..... Also, parishioners just might be finding cocoa puffs in the church for the next several months. But other than that, the kids were quiet and mostly sat still. For three boys, that's just about as angelic as it comes!

After celebratory donuts from the 7-11 (we're fancy like that), we came home and Ryan put himself down for a nap (what the heck?!) while we watched the Seahawks play the Cardinals (awesome game!).

Littlest 12th Man

The boys decorated gingerbread houses, which I discovered is the best way to use up Halloween candy. This is the first year that I bought pre-made kits. I usually make my own from scratch (last year, I resorted to super gluing the gingerbread parts together). I will NEVER make my own again. Pre-made is just way too easy. More and more, I'm starting to appreciate the beauty of shortcuts.

Before bedtime, my husband left to run a quick errand. And of course THAT is the precise moment that shit decided to hit the fan. Two minutes after my husband was out the door, as I was nursing the baby, Ryan came up to me screaming with blood literally squirting out of his mouth. I quickly put down the baby and set Ryan in the bathtub to contain the blood geyser. Of course I was wearing my brand new Seahawks sweatshirt, so I cupped my hands over his gushing mouth and ran him straight to the tub. I never did locate the source of the blood but after a few minutes the bleeding stopped (phew, ER trip avoided).

During this entire episode, Jon was thoroughly upset for having his meal interrupted and was screaming at the top of his lungs. I ducked out of the bathroom to check on him and found that he had his first huge diaper blowout. I mean apocalyptic poop. Poop everywhere. EVERYWHERE. Not gonna lie, all I could think about was my poor new Seahawks sweatshirt.

Oh hi, I'm going to poop now.

I decided that since 2/3 of the children were covered in blood or poop that it was a good time to give them a bath. I lured Jacob into the tub and cleaned all the children assembly-line style. And, you know, because my sweatshirt hadn't been through enough, Jon decided that bath time was the perfect time to pee. His aim is impeccable. PEE. PERFECT ARC. FACE. SWEATSHIRT. DRENCHED.

My husband came home to three sparkling clean children and one wife covered in blood, poop, spit-up, and pee. I was quite a lovely sight. In case you are wondering, I did not get any sweet, sweet lovin' that night. Not that I would anyway because, you know: four week old baby and exhaustion.

"I'm worth it. You love me."

You can just SEE the exhaustion on my face. You can also see a glimpse of my sweatshirt, pre-bodily-fluid apocalypse.

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