It was a dark and storm night. Ok it wasn't. It was a cold but sunny morning. Things were pretty much normal for a Saturday. There were twins in bed with us, and it was prior to 8 am but it was quickly apparent that no one was going to sleep if Mom didn't get up.
I didn't mind. There was coffee to be had and some stretching and relaxing in my future.
Things went pretty normally for a while. I changed diapers, I watched Spongebob with a hot cup of coffee in my hand, giving alternate drinks to whichever child is standing nearby to mooch a drink. I actually made them their own cup but my cup tastes better it seems.
Somewhere around 830 or 9 the poop parade began. "What's that stinky smell?" Julia asks and at our house it only means one thing, twin poop. So I found the culprit and changed him. As I headed back down the stairs I hear "Mommy I NEED TO THROW UP!"
We rush to the bathroom where nothing happens but she declares her tummy hurts. I tell her that perhaps she needs to poop (see more poop talk) and so she endeavors to make that happen while I discern that twin #2 needs changed so back upstairs I go.
I come back downstairs in a while, grab another cup of coffee and settle back into the couch for some more Spongebob and consider breakfast. I ask her what she wants, and she tells me she thinks she doesn't want to eat. That's a bad sign.
I wandered into kitchen and gave Miles his cereal choices and reminded him he has his OWN coffee cup. Dropped the bread in the toaster when I hear Julia say " I need to potty again." I said "Ok," not really considering that she JUST WENT.
I kissed Miles on the head and grabbed the sausage from the fridge when I hear a shriek and "MOMMY HELP ME HELP HELP HELP"
I run to the bathroom, throwing the sausage in the sink (why? I don't know) and behold my bathroom floor. And her legs. And her feet. Oh, she's unwell. She's just had an explosion of epic proportion. She's sobbing "What do I do Mommy?"
Mommy duty is amazing. If it were any person I hadn't given birth to I am pretty sure I'd be like "Good luck with that mess." But those big eyes crying huge tears and I'm not even bothered by the situation. First get out of those clothes, call Louis to resume breakfast.
"OH MY GOD WHAT HAPPENED?" He moans in horror when he comes to my aid.
One shower, one set of clean jammies later it's like it never happened. Much cleaning happened. Much Lysol was used. She still doesn't feel like eating much but she definitely feels better.
I am so going to take him up on it.