Just Another Manic Monday

This is the text I sent to Matt yesterday around 5:30:

I am in hell. No nap, Hays peed on the tree, Will painted himself with poop, and they've been whining and fighting all afternoon. Come home!!!!

The day got off to a promising start. Hays told me he needed to "teetee potty" and, sure enough, he did. As a reward for being such a big boy, I let him wear big boy underwear instead of a diaper. I was monitoring him closely and taking him to the bathroom every 30 minutes to avoid any accidents. Just as I was marveling at how well he was doing, and patting myself on the back for having such success with potty training, I hear "uh-oh." I look over to find Hays standing next to the Christmas tree, watering it in a most unconventional fashion. Well, to be fair, he was really watering the floor, the giant tree cage, and the tree skirt, though I think he managed to sprinkle a branch or two. So much for the potty training success.

As you can imagine, I was relieved to put them down for a nap an hour or so later. I breathed a sigh of relief as I closed their door and reveled in the anticipation of an hour or two of peace. Yeah right. Apparently they had already reached a decision that they were not napping, and no amount of stern admonishments or spankings would convince them to do otherwise. So I decided that I'd show those two punks who was boss. I might not be able to force them to sleep, but I can by god keep 'em in their room. Well, Will decided he'd show me what he thought of that plan by using poop as a means for creative expression. It was no where near as bad as the epic poop incident that happened several months ago. (If you feel the need to revisit that particular adventure, here's the link http://theamazingtwinadventure.blogspot.com/2010/02/theres-story-thats-been-told-for-years.html) but it wasn't good either. He was completely covered, so it was obviously bath time for the poop monster.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze of screaming, fighting, running, biting and a massive mountain of laundry to fold and put away. At one point my mom stopped by to give the kids a book she'd bought for them, and all I could do was sit and fold clothes while she dealt with the hellions for a bit. She told my sister I looked like I was catatonic. I wasn't really, I was just trying to have an out of body experience in the hopes that I could block out all the crazy surrounding me, and let my mind sunbathe on a beautiful beach somewhere. Unfortunately, it didn't work. And my mom could only take 30 minutes or so of being in the frenzied monkey cage that I call home, so she abandoned me. That's when the SOS text was sent to Matt.

He eventually came home (after forwarding my desperate pleas to his boss so they could laugh at my pain. Jerks.) I drank a glass (or two) of wine, got the kids to bed, and fell on the couch in an exhausted stupor. One more day down. Only 16 years to go......

Have a Holly, Jolly Thanksmas

Mason in front of this year's winner.

Will examined the branches to make sure the tree was fresh....

While Hays decided to hide in the tree.

Will had no problem sitting on Santa's lap. Hays, however, was a different story...

Mason liked Santa. But poor Santa looks quite weary. Was it Mason's list? The post-traumatic stress of the twins? We'll never know, but I think Santa could use a drink.

Hays loves animals- especially donkeys

Hays was laughing with delight at the donkeys

I know this is blurry, but it was too funny not to post. Will was looking at the chickens, and every time they would shake their feathers, he would laugh and slap his knees like it was the most hysterical thing he'd ever seen!

Hays likes chickens! (But not as much as Will!)

Will decided to help Daddy with the lights

The tree in all of its finery!

We're still decking the halls, but I can definitively say that Thanksmas was a success. The weather didn't really cooperate with us, but we refused to let rain, wind, falling temperatures, and a whole lot of mud get in the way of our Christmas tree mission. We didn't make it to the tree farm until mid-afternoon, so we spent the morning assembling the giant tree cage, pulling out boxes of decorations, and doing the fancy garland around the front door.

Once we got the tree (we picked the first one we saw!), the kids saw Santa- some enjoyed that more than others- and they checked out all the animals at the petting zoo. Hays was particularly taken with the donkeys, while Will thought the chickens were the funniest darn things he'd ever seen. We got the tree home, unloaded, and upright in the giant tree cage with remarkable ease. We were actually surprised at how well everything was going- until we remembered that we had no lights to hang on the tree, because we threw out all of our old, half-burned out strands last year. Sigh. I knew it was too good to be true. So Matt had to make a light quest to Walmart while I whipped up a pot of butternut squash soup for my decorating crew that would be arriving shortly.

We had a lovely dinner with my parents and Matt's mom, then after we got the twins safely tucked away in bed, we decorated the tree. Decorated may, actually, be an understatement. This thing is dripping with ornaments- almost to the point that you can't tell there's a tree under it. But it's sparkly and pretty! Now I just have to finish all the other stuff and we'll be ready for the holidays!

Happy Thanksgiving and Stuff!

Over a week since I posted- yikes! (but lord knows, I've done worse). Everyone has stayed fairly healthy, so that's the good news. We got hit by a small stomach bug, but it was a 24 hour thing and seemed to get less severe with each victim. By the time I got it, it was just a general feeling of queasiness. Will has been 100% healthy all week long, and he's back to his usual shenanigans. While I'm grateful for good health, I wasn't so glad to see the return of his hijinks. I'd almost gotten used to him being calmer and more compliant over his month of illness, so I was kind of unprepared for him to come raring back, into everything he can get his hands on.

The craziness was magnified by the fact that Mason had the whole week off of school. I tell you what, three boys are LOUD. And my three boys are incredibly loud. There were days where I thought about hiding out in the bathroom with the door locked and a bottle of wine!! But I had to resist that temptation, because there were errands to run in preparation for Thanksgiving. I had the usual grocery store, Target, Walmart things to do, but I also had to take all three boys to get a haircut by myself. (We did not go to the beauty school- I've learned my lesson) Our regular hairdresser was closed the day before Thanksgiving so I took them to some chain store. Whereupon I waited 20 minutes, threatening their lives the entire time to keep them in chairs and out of the displays of hair products. Then I attempted to wrangle the twins during Mason's cut, keep Will in the chair for his, and bodily restrain a crying, screaming Hays for his. That was an adventure that I have no desire to repeat at any point during the rest of my life.

And today was my favorite of all days, Thanksgiving. I, for the first time ever, did the turkey. I've been reading recipes and techniques for a month. I'd even done a practice run on a turkey breast. But no matter how well-prepared you are, it can still be kind of nerve-wracking to roast the bird for the feast for the first time. There are so many things that can go wrong- overcooking it and winding up with a dry, tasteless turkey, or worse, undercooking it and everyone winds up in the emergency room with food poisoning! Luckily for all of us, I did neither. It turned out beautifully. In fact, everything did. It was a smaller crowd for us this year. My grandmother's been in and out of the hospital for several months and just wasn't up to making the trip out here. And honestly, we weren't up to carting the kids down to Macon. So my aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents had Thanksgiving there, and we stayed here with my parents and sisters. We missed the big crowd, but it was kind of nice to have a really laid-back holiday as well.

So now we're gearing up for Thanksmas. Mason's already got his tree in his room up and decorated, and we'll be getting ours tomorrow (as long as the weather cooperates). Matt and I will be busting out the giant tree cage and all our holiday finery. The twins were really taken with Mason's tree, so I hope the tree cage will keep them out of ours. They wanted to touch all the ornaments, and Will kept kissing it and saying, "High five?" I've got a lot of ornaments that might not survive an exuberant high five, so I'm really counting on the tree cage!!

You Get What You Pay For

I've been in desperate need of a haircut for a while. My hair was seriously long- most of the way down my back. And when I had time to blow dry and flat iron it, I absolutely loved it. Really, I felt like Rapunzel. But, let's be honest, how often does that actually happen? Once a week, or if I'm feeling really fancy, twice. But on all those other days, it looked like a scraggly mess, so a haircut was in order.
Yesterday the twins finally went back to school after two weeks. Those three blissful hours were going to be the last ones I had to myself until the week after Thanksgiving, so I was bound and determined to get that mop cut. The problem was that payday isn't until Friday, and we've done the majority of the kids' Christmas shopping over the past week, so money was a bit on the tight side. I decided to go the frugal route and get my hair cut at the beauty school. It's only $5, and I've had it cut there before and the girl did a really good job. I'm thinking she was an A student, or a lot more experienced, because yesterday's cut didn't go so well.
I asked the girl to trim about three inches off, leaving it well below my shoulders (I told you, it was really long) and cut some long, loose layers in it. She slooooooowly got started, trimming a tiny section at a time. I didn't mind too much, after all, I wanted her to take her time and do a good job. But I'm pretty sure a snail could cut hair faster. Then she got to work on the sides. After 45 minutes of cutting she says, "Okay, how does it look?" Ummmmmmm, not so good since the right side is a good inch and a half shorter than the left. So she tries to even it up, then tries some more, then tries a little more. At this point I'm starting to get quite worried about the amount of hair she's cut off. We're already way past three inches, and I'm afraid if she keeps trying to make it even, I'm going to wind up with a pixie cut! Then she says, "I'm really sorry- this is not my area of expertise." Wow, so not what you want to hear from the girl that has scissors in your hair. And honestly, if giving the most basic of haircuts isn't your area of expertise, what the hell is???
So I finally told her, "It's okay honey, let's quit while we're ahead." By then, I had resigned myself to paying a professional to fix this mess, but the girl said, "I can get my instructor to help me." I agreed, and the instructor came over to help guide her through this disaster of a haircut. The instructor gave up on coaching this hapless hairdresser within a few minutes and decided, much to my relief, to finish it herself. With obvious, palpable relief, the girl handed over her scissors, and after one hour, six inches and an instructor, my hair was finally even. Then, that crazy girl asked the instructor, "Now how do I go about putting layers in her hair?" I practically leaped from the chair exclaiming, "Oh no, never mind the layers! Really, it's fine. Let's just leave it one length!" Layers, dear God, I would have been bald!
So I got my haircut. It's (significantly) shorter than I wanted it, but I can still put it in a ponytail, and that's all that really matters. But I have learned a VERY valuable lesson. There are many ways to save money, but a $5 haircut shouldn't be one of them!

Lucky

I have seen a light at the end of the tunnel of illness, and I'm pretty sure it's not a train!!! Everyone's feeling better, Will's coughing has subsided and I think we might be getting well (at least until they bring home some other bug from preschool.) And since you guys have been so incredibly patient with my bitching and moaning, I'm going to take a day to post gratitude instead of attitude.

Yesterday I had a day where I felt so very lucky at so many different times during the day. Lucky to the point that I had to offer a quick prayer of gratitude to God. The first was at the grocery store. I was behind a family with three young children, who were carefully adding up every penny to try to stay within a strict, and very small budget. At the end of their tally, they had to tell their kids to put some things back, and my heart went out to them. I know it must have been tough to tell their kids that there were things they couldn't buy for them. Now, we certainly don't buy our kids everything their hearts desire, but when I made my grocery list this morning, I didn't have consider every dime. I could just make a list of the things we wanted and go get them without worrying if I could pay for them. This hasn't always been the case, and may not always be the case. But yesterday morning, it was, and for that, I was very grateful.
Thank you, God, for giving us the means to provide for our family. Thank you for helping us keep them fed, clothed, healthy and happy.

Later on, my best friend came for a visit. We met up with my mom and Paige and had such a fun afternoon together. We had lunch and did some shopping, talking, and lots of laughing. It was such a fun day spent in the company of women that I love so dearly. And it was much needed, since we've all been dealing with some hard times lately. It was so nice to put aside illness, worry, sadness, and just have fun together. Thank you, God, for blessing me with amazing friends and family. Thank you for the strong, wonderful women that surround me and inspire me.

Then I came home to sweet, loving, funny children, and a kind, supportive, wonderful husband that looked after them all day so I could go and play. Not all men would be willing to do that (though they all should), and I'm grateful to have one of the ones that will. And even though my kids are crazier than drunk puppies, they are so cute and funny and I love them so very much. Thank you, God, for my family. They make life worth living, and I am very glad that they are mine.

My mother and sister joke that whenever their own lives get hard, they just think, "Well, it could be worse. At least I'm not Cameron." They're joking (sort of), but I get it. My day to day life isn't always easy, and it's certainly not calm. But it is full and rich and very, very blessed. And while there are certainly days that I would run away to Tahiti in a heartbeat, I'd always come back (after a few peaceful days in the sun, and many tropical cocktails). I am grateful for this crazy life, and I will leave you with the words of my cell phone's ringtone- Lucky I'm in love with my best friend, lucky to have been where I have been, lucky to be coming home again.

Things Are (Hopefully) Looking Up

I'm going to say, with VERY cautious optimism, that things are getting better. We had the last of the shots from hell today, and Will did amazingly well. I mean, he cried, obviously- you would cry too if someone was shooting liquid flames into your leg. But he only cried for a minute, and he didn't freak out the minute we walked in the door of the doctor's office (though he did whimper a little). And the shots have done their job and cleared up his nasty ear infection.

He's still coughing up a lung on a several-times-daily basis, so our pediatrician sent him to have a chest x-ray just to rule out lower-lung pneumonia. That meant another fun-filled trip to St. Mary's, but thankfully the x-ray showed no signs of pneumonia. He's just still got a ton of congestion that's making him cough. The good thing is that he doesn't have to take any more antibiotics. The bad part is that we're doing every single thing we can possibly do, and we just have to wait it out.

Will was pretty wiped out after this morning's adventures in medicine, but not too wiped out to go to Walmart to get a new Elmo movie. I promised him I'd buy him a new one since he's been such a tough, brave boy through those nasty shots. In fact, he's been so tough and so brave that I bought him two new Elmo movies! I'm hoping that he'll keep on improving steadily and we can put this crappy month of sickness behind us. And then everyone has to stay well for a while. Seriously- has to- Mommy can't take any more!!!

Bringing Out the Big Guns

Did you check in hoping to hear good news? Sorry, haven't got any. We found out that the antibiotics we've been forcing down Will twice a day have been about as effective as gumdrops. They haven't touched his nasty ear infection, and the congestion has started to settle in his chest, hence the raging fever. In a last-ditch effort to keep us out of the hospital, the doctor gave him a shot of Rocephin, which is a heavy duty antibiotic, and he'll have to go back for two more shots over the next two days. And these aren't just little nothing injections. These are thick solutions given with a giant needle that burn like the flames of hell going in. It's so bad that he can't even walk for a while afterwards because his leg hurts so bad. And we get to do it two more times!!
Holding that poor screaming baby down on the exam table is just about more than I can bear. And it's made worse by the fact that he cried "Ow, ow, ow" all the way out of the doctors office. Is your heart breaking? Well this will just send it right on over the edge- all this happened after my poor, sweet baby looked at me and asked in this hopeful little voice, "Yummy medicine?" Oh yeah, it practically killed me. Matt's taking him for tomorrow's shot because I just can't bear to do it three days in a row.
He came home from the doctor and fell asleep on the couch almost immediately. He slept through Hays marching through the living room yelling and banging on a tupperware container with a turkey baster. He only woke up because he was wracked by a horrible coughing fit. At which point I got to subject him to a hose nose and a giant dose of disgusting steroids! And this is what we'll be doing, over and over for the next three days in a desperate attempt to avoid the hospital.
It seems like it's never ending. And the worst part is, if he gets sick again, I have to take them out of preschool!!! Not preschool!! Please don't take away my blissful six hours of freedom a week!!! Of course, he's only been twice in three weeks because he's incessantly sick. And quite frankly, if keeping him out of school means we never have to go through the Rocephin torture again, I'll freakin' home school him if I have to. I can't stand to watch my sweetie hurt anymore. He has been through too much in his short little life already, and I just need him to get well and stay well.

You Can't Fire Me, I Quit

Misery at its finest

Okay, I give up, I can't take it anymore. Somebody is going to have to come into this cootie cave and take care of these sick-o children because I have had all I can take. I have cleaned up puke at least once a day for over a week now. Today, I had the fun of cleaning up puke puddles THREE TIMES!!!! I'm serenaded by a symphony of coughing from sunup to sundown, and I can't take it anymore. My poor Will is sick as a dog and just can't seem to get better. He's been coughing for two weeks straight, and it's gotten so bad that it leads to the aforementioned vomiting at least once a day. And as if that wasn't enough fun, he's had a fever ranging between 101* and 103* since Friday. Antibiotics aren't doing anything but giving him killer diarrhea, and I don't know what to do anymore. He's going back to the doctor tomorrow morning, which will officially make 6 trips in two and a half weeks. Yay...........

Hays has been sick, too. But in light of Will's extravaganza of illness, Haysie's snot and fever barely register. Oh, and just for the record, I've managed to catch two colds in two weeks as well. So on top of dealing with sick, whiny kids, cleaning up after puke-fest, and being woken up seven times in seven hours, I've gotten to do it all while feeling like crap! Oh, and let's not forget my stupid dog, who, due to some sort of allergy, skin condition, or just general stress from living in this hell-hole, has been chewing herself bald and bloody. And when she's not chewing, she's frantically rubbing her dirty self against my living room chair while whining pitifully. I swear to God, it seems like it's never going to end. And we're only at the beginning of cold season!

My mom asked me tonight if there was anything she could do to help. I told her I needed:

A. a nanny

B. a trip to Tahiti

C. Someone to take these sick pitiful kids off my hands

And that worthless girl could not provide any of the above! So come on, beloved readers, surely one of you is incredibly rich and wants to provide me with household help or a fabulous vacation, right? Anybody?????

Damn you, Halls, you've decked Thanksgiving!!!!

This weekend I have seen no less than six Facebook posts about people putting up their Christmas trees. Christmas trees? What???? Did I miss something? Isn't it only the first weekend of November? I mean, seriously, I know Christmas comes earlier every year, but the first weekend in November????????? Call me Scrooge, but I am not a fan.

It's not that I don't love Christmas- I do. It is, as the song says, the most wonderful time of the year. It's absolutely magical and joyful, not to mention, sparkly. And since I'm drawn to shiny things like a raccoon, Christmas decorations are right up my glitter-strewn ally. I get just as excited as everyone when it's time to break out the tinsel and stockings (Hmmmm, I just realized that could apply to either a strip club or holiday decorations.....) But in my house, it's not time yet.

One of the things that makes Christmas so special is that it's only here for a brief time. And frankly, a month is plenty long for me. If I put up a tree now, it will have become a part of the scenery by Christmas day. I won't even notice it anymore. If anything, I'll be ready to get it down just so I can have that corner of my living room back! But if it's only up for three or four weeks, it's still special and fun. If I turn on Christmas carols now, I'll be ready to punch Rudolph right in that red, glowing nose by December first!!

But the main reason I don't decorate early is because I feel like Thanksgiving gets robbed. It gets squished into this whole holiday hoopla with Christmas and New Year's, and doesn't get the appreciation and celebration it so rightly deserves. I've said before on this blog that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. It's all about family togetherness and decadent food, and it brings with it the promise of the Christmas season. I adore that day from the parade in the morning, to the huge family gathering in the afternoon, right up to the lighting of the Rich's great tree that night. When the soprano hits that high note on Oh Holy Night, and that tree blazes into all its glowing glory, the Christmas season officially begins for me. But not one moment before. I want to fully embrace Thanksgiving day and take that time to count my blessings, enjoy my family, and humbly thank God for all that He has given me. So while I'll be decorating, it will be with pumpkins, gourds and fall leaves. You won't see one speck of Christmas cheer around this house until November 26th.

Now if you're one of those early decorators, that's okay- to each his own. I fully respect your right to deck your halls as early as you want to. (Unless you start in July like Hobby Lobby. I'm sorry, at that point, I just can't be your friend.) But I'm stickin' to my guns. We'll welcome Christmas with open arms- just as soon as we've polished off the turkey and pumpkin pie.

Birthday Wishes for My Sister

Here's me at 19 and Paige at 6 with Elizabeth and our cousins

With the madness that's gone on around here this week, I let an important day get by me without comment. My tiny baby sister turned 19 on Monday. I'm not really sure how that's possible, because if she's 19, I'm far older than I care to acknowledge. She was born when I was in the 8th grade, and I vividly remember coming home from school to find a note on the door telling me to go next door to the neighbor's house because mom was at the hospital. I don't know how nearly two decades have come and gone since then, but apparently they have, because now she's 19 and a freshman in college. So here's what I wish for her this year, and the next few years to come.

I hope that she will make friends that will last a lifetime. The kind of friends that, 15 years later and miles apart, will still be her best friends. The ones that know her better than anyone and will always be there to laugh and cry with her.

I hope that she will fall deeply and truly in love for the first time. Even if she discovers, like I did, that your first love isn't necessarily meant to be your forever love.

I hope that she gets everything she wants. But if she does and then realizes it's not actually what she wants after all, I hope she'll fearlessly go down new paths, following new dreams.

I hope that there will be few struggles along the way. But when she does struggle, I hope that she'll come out of it stronger and wiser and even more confident in who she is and what she believes.

I hope that she will challenge herself to get out there and do new things- even things that scare her a little bit.

I hope that she will get in trouble from time to time. But not too much trouble!! Not anything that will leave her scarred for life or with an arrest record, just enough that she'll have some great stories to tell.

And finally, I hope that she will be happy and blessed. I hope that she will wake up some days bubbling over with joy at the sheer wonderfulness of her life.

So, happy belated birthday to my baby sister- may you get everything you wish for!!!

The Halloween from Hell

Don't let the smiling faces in the cute pictures fool you- this was the weekend from hell. It should have been an awesome weekend, and it would have been if things had gone according to plan. But when do things ever go according to plan? Here's what was supposed to happen. Saturday morning, Matt had to go into work for a few hours. He was going to come home in the afternoon to take the kids to the big trick-or-treat bonanza that takes place downtown. Then his mom was going to come over and babysit the kids so we could have a lovely date night dinner and a movie. That would be followed by a relaxing Sunday, ending with me taking Mason trick-or-treating in Yaya and Grandaddy's neighborhood. Sounds lovely, right? Here's what actually happened....

Matt headed out the door at 6:30 a.m. He was working on a big moving project for a client, so we knew it would take a while, but no one could have predicted how long it actually took. We were scheduled to take the kids downtown at 4:00, but I started to get concerned when I still hadn't heard from Matt at 2:00. 2:30, no Matt, 3:00, no Matt. By then it was obvious that he wasn't making it home in time to take the kids. Luckily, my mom came over to help me get them ready and came with us to the awesome trick or treat fest that our town holds each year. That was actually really fun. The kids all had a good time, and even though Hays refused to wear his puppy ears, they all looked really cute in their costumes. But the fun ended there.

We got home around 5 and my mother in law was coming to babysit at 6. I called Matt to make sure he was at least going to make it home in time for date night. His response was, "I hope we're going to be done in an hour." Considering that he was thirty minutes away and that they're NEVER done in an hour, I knew with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that date night wasn't going to happen. I called Pat to let her know that she was off the babysitting hook. She kindly offered to bring dinner over for the kids and give me a hand, but I foolishly said, "No, that's okay. I'll just feed them here and eat take-out with Matt later." The kids, having been promised McDonald's with Nana, outright refused every dinner suggestion I had. When I called my mom to complain about the disaster my evening had become, she offered to meet us at the Mexican place nearby.

I hate taking my kids out to eat. It's always much more trouble than it's worth. But I was hoping to salvage some small piece of the evening and make the kids happy, so against my better judgement, I agreed. It wasn't as bad as I thought. It was much, much worse. I have never, ever seen my children behave as badly in public as they did that evening. Mason was impossible. He wouldn't listen, messed with everything on the table, just made a general pain in the ass of himself. Hays was out of his mind- screaming and refusing to eat, and when he wasn't doing that he was making a disastrous mess and getting into everything in sight. Will was actually fine. He just made an epic mess and got silly with Mason, but he was the best of the bunch.

It doesn't sound that bad, but honestly, you just had to be there. It was awful. It was so bad in the first five minutes, that when the waitress came to take our order, I didn't even order. I knew I'd be so busy trying to wrangle the evil demon that had taken over Hays, that there was no hope of actually eating a meal. By the end, all mom and I could do was laugh, but it was that laughter bordering on hysteria that you do when things can't possibly get worse. But they did.

I got the kids home, bathed and into bed. I poured myself a jug of wine, Matt finally got home and we settled for Chinese instead of a fun date. I was exhausted and collapsed into bed around 11:00. An hour later I was awoken by a crying Mason, barking like a seal and gasping for breath. Croup, for the second time in as many months. Twenty minutes later after sitting in a steamy bathroom and giving him a hit of Will's Albuterol (doctor approved!) we were back in bed. An hour later Hays wakes up crying. And hour after that, Will. Then Hays. Then Mason, crying barking, gasping. Oh yeah, it was quite a night.

Sunday morning started with a trip to the urgent care center for Mason. Steroids for the cough, Tylenol for the fever. The usual. We get home to find that Will is coughing an awful lot. I try to give him Robitussin- he throws it up. Wait a while and try again- he throws it up again. We give up. He feels fine, he's just coughing, so figure we'll just wait it out and keep an eye on him.Matt's mom had offered to watch the kids so we could go to lunch since our date night had been thwarted, and we took her up on it. That was lovely. We had a nice lunch (during which we were only interrupted by one work-related phone call), then a trip to Target to scout out Christmas presents for the kids. As we're leaving Target, Matt's mom calls. Will is coughing badly and can't stop.

When we get home, he's coughing his brains out. Matt's mom has successfully given him Robitussin and we gave him a breathing treatment, but the coughing continues. Then he throws up the Robitussin. Off to St. Mary's we go. When we get there, his oxygen levels are fine, he has no fever, and the coughing levels off some. He still has bad coughing fits, but it's not so constant. They do a chest x-ray and give him a breathing treatment, but determine that it's post-nasal drip from allergies, and not a relapse of pneumonia. We're on our way home with a prescription for very strong cough medicine in time for me to take Mason trick-or-treating!

Trick or treating was great. My mom, my sister, Paige, and I took Mason around the neighborhood. He collected his fill of candy, then headed back to my parent's house to hand out candy with Grandaddy. I got to hang out with my mom and sister for a while, and at least the weekend from hell ended on a high note.

Well, for me anyway. I came home and got Mason to bed and fell into bed not long after myself. Poor Matt was working from home until 4 am, got up 3 1/2 hours later to start the grind again, and God only knows when he'll get home tonight. So I'm on my own all day today with all three kids. Yay. And there's no school tomorrow because it's election day. Double yay. Surely things will get better? Right??????