Worst. Weekend. Ever.

Thanksgiving was great, Black Friday was awesome, then, shit went south.  Here is a recap of my Thanksgiving holiday, as relayed in an email to a friend:

Thursday was fantastic.  Went to the sister in law’s and had a fun time.  Henry, in true Henry fashion, would have no part in the Thanksgiving deliciousness.  He was presented with  a plate full of delights, but instead chose to only eat rolls.  They were apparently wonderful and he ate two.  He threw some cranberries at me, but that was the extent of his exploration in to non-bread foods.  Whatevs.  Plans were made for Henry to spend the night at the gma and gpa’s house on Friday night, because I was to work at the cupcakery on Saturday, and Mike had to work too.  The father in law made it clear, though, that they would take him any other time.  He even said, “If Mindy were to calf-out any time and you need to go over there, we’ll take him for a couple of days.”  My response:  “I’m sorry, what?  If Mindy whats?”  “Calfs-out.”  Oh, okay.  That man cracks me up.

Friday, we had super fun times at Stephanie's house.  Henry is literally half the size of Isaac (her son), who is only 5 months his senior, but Henry seemed to be the leader of the two and Isaac cracked us up as he crawled after Henry (Isaac can walk, by the way) and they squealed and played.  And squealed.   It was hilarious and oh so loud.  

Okay, fast-forward to Saturday.  I got up early to get to the cupcake shop by seven.  I let Maggie out, who was prancing around like a crazy pants, making me angry with her urgency.  Fine, Maggie.  Go outside so I can leave!  Went down to NewBo,  selling cupcakes, tra-la-la-la-la.  It was very quiet in the morning, then it was 3 hours of craziness.  Seriously.  People wanted cupcakes and they wanted them bad.  It was chaos.  Cupcakes were flying, and lines were forming.  Yikes.  I was excited to go home at 3, and I called Mike to see if he was home yet.  He had just gotten out to his parents’ house, and his mom was making chili.  He wanted to stay out there for dinner and I said, “YES!”  Oh, how lovely it would be to have a few hours of the house all to myself after such a crazy day!  I left NewBo and went to Joann’s to buy some yarn (I’m making an afghan for a friend for Christmas) and bought a kit to make a stocking for Henry.  Oh, how wondrous it would be to sit at home and watch TV and craft with no interruptions.  Fantastic.  So, I got home, opened the door and- OH MY GOD WHAT IS THAT SMELL???  WHY DOES IT SMELL LIKE DOG POO???  Yeah, remember that prancing and dancing trying to get outside?  Maggie seemed to have some kind of gastro-intestinal distress and had exploded in her kennel.  Seriously.  Exploded.  All over the kennel, all over her, all over the floor surrounding the kennel.  It was poopmaggeddon and it was horrible.  I chased her outside, and called Mike.  I cannot repeat what I said to him in polite company.  Just know that there was a great deal of cursing, threatening the life of the dog, and threatening to burn down the house.  There was a lot of laughing on his end.  Apparently, Henry could hear my rage, and was sitting on the couch next to Mike imitating me.  He was yelling and growling.  That’s pretty much spot on. 

So, then to the nasty business of cleaning up.  Oh, how horrible it was.  First, I had to get the kennel outside.  I picked it up and carried it.  That my friend, was my first mistake.  Kennels are not water-tight.  Lifting it over the baby gate was a HUGE mistake.   I won’t go in to the gory details, but that was another spot I had to add to my cleaning list.  Get it outside to hose it out.  First have to tear it apart.  How is there poop on the outside??  Andy why can’t I get these $%@** screws out???  Finally got them out.  Oh, great.  The hose is frozen!  More cursing. 

Go back in to start the horrible cleaning process.  I should have just hired some kind of crime scene cleaners, it was that bad.  I went through a couple rolls of paper towels and more bleach than I can tell you.  My eyes burned, and my stomach turned.  Oh, the horror.  I will not show you the picture, but know that I sent a picture to Mike.  With more curse words.  It was disgrossting. 

Oh, then the bath time.  Usually, when I tell Maggie, “bath time” she happily jumps in the tub.  You think that happened this time?  Of course not!!!  I had to lift her in.  LIFT.  Let’s not forget that she was COVERED in horror.  She squished when I touched her.  I was in a blind rage.  She felt the wrath of my anger, and looked at me with sad eyes.  Oh, how bad I felt.  My poor puppy didn’t feel good and I was being mean to her.  So, I gave her a bath and was nice to her.  She had been through so much already.  Bath, then out to the porch to dry for a while.  Then I checked my phone to see if you had calfed-out (ba ha ha ha ha) and saw that I had a message from Mike.  He was concerned that I had run away from home because I had threatened to get a divorce and run to Mexico many times at that point, and was on his way without the Henry to help clean up.  Well, great.  I was almost done at that point.  So I called him, more curse words were said, and he laughed at me some more.  He reminded me that there was a bottle of wine leftover from Thanksgiving.  Score.  He said to finish up, he’d head back to get Henry, and be home soon.  I bleached the devil out of the shower, and took one of my own, then put some clothes in the wash.  With Maggie sufficiently dry, I let her in to lay on a pillow in the back and drink some water.  I commenced crafting and drinking, then OH MY GOSH WHAT IS THAT NOISE???  Gastro-intestinal distress was actually gastro-intestinal terror.  The water did not sit well.  More disinfecting, Maggie stays outside forevermore.  YUCK.  More wine, I was asleep by nine.  Oh, heavens.

At this point, I am sure that a terrible plague has befallen my household.  So, of course, I go to church with the baby on Sunday morning, ready for a peaceful morning of prayers and happiness.   Ha.  Henry has recently learned the up/down dichotomy, and practiced it over and over and over again.  And again.  He even made it halfway up the aisle before I caught him once.  We spent the majority of the service in the narthex playing with an almost-dead mylar balloon and definitely NOT standing up.  “Down, Momma!  Down!”  Thankfully, it was a healing service and he calmed down a little after being anointed with oil.  I believe it exorcised just a couple of the demons that have overtaken my toddler.  Just a couple.  With church over, I decided to trek back to NewBo to purchase a delicious pork sandwich for my husband that I had sampled the day before and believed that he would enjoy.  Almost there, I hear a strange thump-thump-thump.  What’s that?  Oh, of course it’s a flat tire!  Of course!  Call the husband.  He comes down to save us.  Order the sandwich.  Got the wrong thing.  Whatever.

Husband looks at the tire.  Dead.  No chance of help.  Spare?  Almost dead.  Don’t get to drive my car.  Yuck.  Hate the truck. 

So, this morning, I had to take the husband to work.  He likes to leave at seven.  We head out, with a cranky baby in tow (he does NOT like to wake up early) at 7:15.  Mike gets Henry buckled in, I get my bags stowed away and hop in the driver’s seat.  Mike buckles in the passenger side and I look at him and say, “Give me the keys.”  He says to me, “You have them.”  “No, actually, I do not.   I thought you had them because you came out first and put Henry in his seat.”  Then, we simultaneously realized they were in the house.  The house that was locked.  Panic.  Thankfully, my husband is scrawny and crawled back in the house through the doggie door to get them. 

Then, we went to work.

And here I am, waiting for the next randomly crazy thing to happen. 

I hope that it’s over.