These are the times that try mens' (and mommas') souls...

Today is gone. Today was fun.
Tomorrow is another one. -Dr. Seuss


Apparently the good Dr. hadn't had my day when he penned this.

Today began with the normal morning rush, getting Daddy's Girl to school and Mr. Wonderful to work at Daddy-Dome. (We are currently a one-car-family. It makes for a lot of bonding.)

Anyway, Little Prince had a 9:30am Dr.s' appointment (not Seuss-that was later), so I got home and made us presentable, packed a bag with supplies and then out the door we went. The "babies" were really good at the Dr.s' office, and we made it out without much of an incident other than Sunshine becoming a little less "sunny" when she saw that Little Prince had a sucker and she did not.

The real fun began once we got home from picking up Mr. Wonderful (that sounds weird). It is Wednesday night and because we usually go to church, the staple for dinner is fish sticks and french fries. And even though we didn't go tonight, why break routine. Sunshine and I were in the kitchen and everyone else was spread throughout the house. I was getting the plates ready and turn around to see Sunshine-our own personal possum-grabbing some "treasure" out of the trash. She grabbed an old coffee stirrer...that had been in the trash in the car along with a glove from the ER that we had wrapped Daddy's Girl's stitched-up finger in so it wouldn't get infected-a month ago. Well being OCD (not anal...please do not confuse the two in my presence), I could just see Sunshine getting "the staph" from a stirrer that MIGHT have touched a MONTH-OLD glove. I know that it makes no sense to you. But to me, in a weakened state, it is entirely possible.

Well, to make an extremely long story shorter, I freaked out, grabbed the stirrer and proceeded to put hand sanitizer on her hand. Yes, the same sanitizer that everyone warned mommies about in that horrible e-mail. Up to this point I had always been impressed with how Sunshine rubbed in the sanitizer like Mommy, but tonight that was not the case. As I turned from returning the gel to its proper place, I screamed as I saw my baby with her open palm up to her mouth. Well, you can imagine the next hour.

I forced water down her mouth, fed her french fries by the handful (she didn't throw up...must not have been drunk) and watched every move she made. By the way, it is amazing how tipsy toddlers act on a regular basis.

Of course I had to Google it because there is no other authority I could turn to, and I'm pretty sure that the Bible has nothing to say about ingesting 63% alcohol when your under 5 years old...at least not in a way that was helpful to our situation. So, while I'm busy reading what the "experts" have to say, I hear a great commotion from the kitchen, apparently having something to do with seasoning salt. It turns out Mr. Wonderful had told Daddy's Girl "no" to the condiment and she looked right at him and poured it on her fish sticks. That did not go over well. There was "stern" reprimand and many tears, then it was finish-your-dinner-and-off-to-bed-for-you!

And lastly, it was Little Prince's turn at the fun. Today he had to have some spots treated on his leg, and I'm just gonna tell you giving the stuff a name like "beetle juice" or "shark juice" doesn't make the results any more pleasant. They stick tape over the spots and then have you rip it off your kid later and they want it to pull the skin off. (They do this so you will be the bad guy I'm convinced.) Well, poor Little Prince, who already has a behind that looks like he rode a sandpaper saddle because of a little stomach bug, now has raw spots of flesh on the back of his leg. It was pitiful. We gave him ice cream, but if you ask me that's a bum deal.

Sorry that this was such a long post. It was a long day.