Event #1 (5 days): Endure your daughter's funky virus and funkier poops; while you feel terrible for her, try to resist feeling a little annoyed when she screeches "Mamaaaaaaaaaaaaa my BUTT hurts........." every 8 minutes.Event #2 (evening): Prepare for your baby's ear tube surgery (bathe baby, pack bag, map out destination, set alarm for 5:15 am) while trying not to ignore your other children.
Event #3 (3:30 am): Wake up not at 5:15 am but at 3:30 am to the sound of one poor son puking on the carpet by your bed.
Event #4 (3:45 am): After comforting and cleaning up said son, deposit him on couch. Perform Haz Mat duties on rug and bathroom floor with Teammate Husband.
Event #5 (4 am to 5:15 am): Try to sleep, unsuccessfully.
Event #6 (5:15 am): Hop up to get you and baby ready for surgery.
Event #7 (5:40 am): Check on sick son. Worry about son until you get home from hospital.
Event #8 (6 am): Try to entertain bored, hungry toddler in sterile hospital room while waiting for nurses, anesthesiologist and doctor.
Event #9 (7 am): Try to hold your sh*t together and not become inexplicably teary when they wheel your (now slightly loopy from the medicine) baby back to the operating room.
Event #10 (7:30 am): Remember afresh how cranky and inconsolable babies are when they wake up from surgery.
Event #11 (7:40 am): Wipe off apple juice puke from shirt while trying not to drop writhing, screaming, baby.
Event #12 (7:50 am): Marvel at how fast these places discharge patients, but race home anyway to sick son and sore-butted daughter.
Event #13 (8:20 am): Arrive home to wipe butts, Lysol the prior evenings' site of disaster, and dose out Tylenol.
Event #14 (8:40 am): Realize you can do none of these things when your woozy toddler will not let you put her down.
Event #15 (8:50 am): Endure yet another spraying or three of anesthesia-induced apple juice puke.
Event #16 (9 am): Try to change shirt. Fail.
Event #17 (9:10 am): Hope no one comes to the door since you can't seem to get a new shirt on.
Event #18 (9:15 am-11:15 am): Cart 24 pound baby around while clucking at other sick kids.
Event #19 (11:20 am): Finally get baby down for a nap. Wipe sore butt of sore-butted daughter. Collapse on couch briefly.
Event #20 (12:00 pm): Get a call from the school nurse, who tells you your son "looks pale" and "says his tummy hurts." Recklessly leave SEVEN YEAR OLD to babysit his sleeping sisters while you race to the school at 75 miles per hour to get other son.
Event #22 (1 pm to 7 pm): Continue to wipe bottoms, dispense Tylenol and Ibuprofen, push Gatorade, haul fussy toddler around.
Event #23 (7:20 pm): Realize toddler has a fever. Resist urge to crumple on floor in heap of crumpled hopelessness.
Event #24 (8 pm): Despite howling protests, farm all children to bed before you yourself drop.
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