So this happened.
Babysitter left at 2pm today. At 2:05 Trouble needed changing. We march upstairs. From downstairs Lunatic Child starts yelling "Mommy" every few seconds, and then informs me that he has puked. I whisk Trouble into a diaper and go downstairs. Lunatic Child has, in fact, puked on himself. I am pulling off Lunatic Child's trousers to change him when he puts his new battery operated car on my head and turns it on. The wheels get caught in my hair, and I can't reach the off switch to turn it off so the wheels keep turning and my hair is getting more and more tangled by the second. Trouble then vomits all over himself.
Lunatic Child is in his underwear, Trouble is covered in vomit, and I have a car stuck to my head when the most recent nanny candidate calls asking for directions because she can't find the house. It is at this point that I realize that breathing techniques do not really cut it in the stress reduction sweepstakes.
Mind you, this is after last night where Trouble was up about 7 times. Teething? Growing pains? General cussedness? Who knows? He can't tell me. He ended up in bed with me so I could get 5 minutes of sleep.
Between that, Fun Daddy being in London for the week, and my zillionth nanny interview (this one said "Oh My God" about 10 times in the first 10 minutes of the interview. No.) I am feeling like my amazing vacation in France happened about 20 years ago. Woeisme.
