All the children were finally well. At least on medication and no longer acting sick. There was light streaming through the clouds, but before I could yell hooray...the school called.
The school called at 2:45 to ask me to come get my daughter because she threw up after breakfast. They called almost SEVEN hours after the fact. I was pissed. I requested that they put her on the bus and send her home. I mean, if she was fine for 7 hours, what is another 15 minutes? No, no, no. They could not possibly allow her to ride the bus home. I tried to explain that by the time I woke up two babies, put them in car seats, and drove there, that the bus would already have come and gone. Not to mention, what am I going to do about the two kids that are riding the bus? Let them stand outside the door until I get back? No can do. Jelly Belly came home via parent with a tummy bug.
The weekend had been productive. I relocated the entire newly laundered contents of the children's closets to other closets. I cleaned all the plaster from the carpets. Good times. Until, I heard the crash. I checked on the children, the dogs, the cats. They were all fine. What was that noise then? It was the closet shelf, pulling itself out of the wall...sending the contents crashing to the floor. I was cleaning up the mess when I heard ANOTHER crash. The second time it was the shelf in the laundry room that came crashing to the floor. Apparently, the added weight from the relocated children's clothing was too much. I cleaned for hours with tears in my eyes, because I recognized defeat.
Then when order was restored, I sat down. Just a few minutes of rest. The children are better, but I am still nursing a sinus infection, because karma is a bitch. Sitting. Resting. Watching James Taylor, John Mellencamp, and Garth Brooks...marveling at how much they have aged, when...H projectile vomits all over my living room. This was repeated at numerous intervals throughout the night and into this morning. All over my room, all over my bed, all over me.