Watch that poo coming off the fan...

Fun stuff always comes in multiples, and somehow the universe thinks it's hilarious when different forms of fun hit at one time.  Not unlike shit hitting a fan!

Take last week, for instance.  First, I was put on a medicine that made me nauseous and tired for the first half of each day.  Hey, it's the first trimester of pregnancy in pill form!  Add to that Trey being sick, and keeping both of us up half the night with his hacking.  I mean, I know I should feel sympathy for my sick husband, but really, I was forced to the couch most nights in order to get any amount of rest.  We were supposed to have a garage sale Saturday morning, but as the week progressed, I did not.  I did manage to get to the store to get those awesome stickers that are already priced for you.  And then I found my labeled stickers from last year!

Friday morning, I was feeding Ryan when I heard Sean's door open and the pitter patter of proud little feet coming down the hallway.  The day I had been dreading for almost three years had come - Sean realized he could climb out of his crib and leave his room on his own!  NO!!!  When Trey got home from work (because sick or not, he still went to work!), we converted Sean's bed to a toddler bed.  And with Ryan almost head to toe in the bassinet, we brought up the reserve crib (thank you Awesome Schniedermeyers!) from the basement.  So Friday night, both boys slept in New Beds!  WooHoo, right!?

OMG, at 3am in the morning, those same proud little tootsies arrived at the side of my bed, with a loud "Mommy!  I did it!"  I actually remembered what all the experts tell you, and I took him back to bed.  What the experts don't tell you is that doesn't work.  In the end, we compromised with me setting up camp on the awesomely hard floor next to Sean's bed.  After about an hour, I was sure he was asleep, so I got up, and moved to the couch.  Trey had his own sinus symphony going in the bedroom.

Wasn't long after that that Ryan started fussing.  Not awake, but not able to get himself back to sleep without the paci.  Next thing I know, it's 7 o'clock, and both boys are up for the day.  So I go in to Trey, hoping for a little love and support (read: Hey, buddy, you get up and let me go back to sleep!)  But all I got out of Trey was a bunch of moaning.  Apparently, working all week while sick will eventually kick your ass.  He was nauseous, head pounding, weak, aching all over, couldn't breathe.  And I hated every living cell in his body for it!

Luckily, our neighbors are saints, and let Sean play almost all day at their house.  Because something was up with Ryan, too.  Fussy doesn't describe it.  More twisting around, lots of tooting, spitting up.  I don't get it!  I was starting to think it was too much cereal, so I have backed off a bit.  But both Saturday and Sunday, this was not a happy kid.

We did have a really awesome moment with Joe (awesome neighbor guy), when all the kiddos were playing on their playroom floor.  Ryan and I have been practicing sitting up all week - and the kid sat up for at least 30 seconds, holding himself up with his hands!  So Cool!  He still frequently falls over after about 1 second, but Joe can vouch that the kid was rockin' it there at his place Saturday afternoon.  And then Ryan spit up and started crying, and I had to bring Sean home for not cleaning up his toys, and he screamed  and kicked the whole way home while I had him in a football hold, and Joe carried the spitting infant....through the rain.  To a passed out, sick husband.  

So the weekend didn't go any way as planned - it was our weekend with Isabella, but she was in Hannibal for her pageant on Saturday.  Granted we wouldn't have had much time with her anyway, but we had none at all with Trey too sick to travel and Ryan, well, whatever was up with Ryan.  The garage sale fell through - so we still have a house full of stuff, and not the extra money we were hoping for.  

To be fair, there are bright spots in the past few days.  After a terrible Friday morning, Sean and I spent the afternoon, outside, laying on a blanket, in the sun, for four hours - watching bugs, killing bugs (him, not me), playing Superman, playing catch, tickling, laughing, lounging, snacking.  Pure joy.  It ranks up there in the top five.  And Trey felt "that much" better Sunday morning, and let me sleep while he fed the kids.  I got a good 11 hours!  Of course, he was wiped the rest of the day, but at least I was easily able to tackle the day.  

Alas, it is now Monday and life goes on.  We have Isabella again this weekend, Ryan is somewhat better, Trey crawled out of bed back to work, and Sean was up at the buttcrack of dawn.  But it's all good - once you realize that you can't control anything, and just learn to deal.  And Hey, gotta go, cuz that's not poo, but a wiffle ball flying at my head.  Who taught that kid to throw?  Oh, and The Spitter is awake.  This is my life.  :-)