Sunday, Bloody Sunday...

As most of you know, I live in the land of role reversal -- except on Sundays. Sunday is my day to stay at home with the kids while HM goes to make the ice. Today started out great. The kids were in good moods, both slept a little later than usual (6:00 instead of 5:30), and breakfast of really good bagels and cream cheese are always a crowd pleaser. The Peanut ate a little more than a 1/2 of a bagel, while her younger brother ate a whole one and a banana. We all watched a little Dora than played on the floor for a while. The peanut went pee-pee in the potty (Yay!). The Pumpkin Man tried a sippy cup. We sang Christmas carols (We wish you a merry very Christmas) and danced, Then Pumpkin Man went down for nap rather easily, and Peanut and I began our "project."

Every weekend I try to do something artsy with the peanut. Daddy is a little intimidated by art projects, so he does crayons and some paint, but he usually leaves the crazy stuff to me (like the Thanksgiving turkey hats ). Today's project was a multistep job. We're making our own Christmas ornaments. Cooking the dough was scary because Peanut wanted to stir the pot. I let her, but open flame and 2 1/2 year olds? Scary. The dough dried out more quickly than it should have. The baby woke up in the middle of it all and had to join us at the table. He wouldn't believe that the dough was disgusting, so he kept trying it and yelling about how yucky it tasted. All in all, it went fine. We'll have to see how the ornaments dry, but the process (while terribly messy) was fun for everybody. Cleanup went smoothly thanks to the handvac that scares everyone and makes them cry (including our 70 lb. Boxer).

Then all hell broke loose. The Pumpkin Man's bottle leaked all over me. The Peanut flipped out because I wasn't getting her a snack fast enough and the DVR started her show almost at the end. HM called to tell me he killed the Zamboni. The cat threw up on the floor and the dog knocked over the ornaments in a mad dash for the cat vomit. Seriously, this all happened in about 5 minutes. I yelled at everyone -- and hung up on HM. I fixed everything, and called HM back. Then while talking to him, my darling son, the Pumpkin Man attacked me because I wouldn't give him the same snack his sister had. Peanut was enjoying a Nutty Buddy , which has peanut butter -- a no-no until the Pumpkin Man is older. So, he pinched my arm, threw himself into my lap and bit me in the thigh. I kid you not.

Lunch did not go very well. Let's just say we all needed a change of clothes and sponge bath, and I doubt the Pumpkin Man has a peanut allergy. But right now, everything is peaceful. The Pumpkin Man is crawling around with an animal cracker hanging out of his mouth, and the Peanut is trying to poop in the potty, while explaining that "you have to push, push. Oh yes!" to her little brother. Only 2 hours to go!

UPDATE: Shortly after blogging, my sweet little girl had an attack of constipation that resulted in hugs, tears and poopy smears down the front of my pants. She ended up in an emergency bath to calm the cramps and her brother just HAD to join her. After the bath, I had nothing (because it was an emergency, remember). So I played goalie with the Pumpkin Man -- who was determined to scale down the staircase wet, naked and face first -- while searching for a third set of clothes for both babies in the 'clean clothes basket" in the hallway. Meanwhile, the Peanut huddled beside the radiator for warmth: "Uhm, Mommy? I have boogies." "You have boogies?" "No, no. The towel has my boogies." I turn to see bright red blood smeared all over her face. Damn my husband and his freaking sinuses.

P.S. While I'm feeling pulled in a million directions, I should mention it is one week until my baby, the Pumpkin Man, turns one -- Chanukkah, a birthday, and Christmas. Oh My! I guess I'd better see the wizard...