Saturday started out great with one of the best baptisms I've ever been to and it was for one of my very favorite boys.
But after the spiritual morning my day quickly escalated toward lameness.
I had only slept 2 hours the night before and planned to sleep after the baptism. I came home and puttered around. I ended up in my bed with the boys. They have been fighting about this and that and Nifae had been grounded for a bad attitude the night before.
I finally got them on track and I drifted off to sleep.
About 20 min later I heard Nifae screaming FIRE FIRE FIRE!!!
I ran to the kitchen and saw a flaming ball of fire in the microwave. And the microwave was still on.
It melted the top of the microwave and filled the house with smoke. Melted plastic smelling smoke. :/
I put it out and got everyone calmed down. Dad and I cleaned it up and aired out the house for a few hours, which isn't awesome in January.
I set out vinegar and lite candles to help with the smell.
I finally crawed back into bed after those hours.
The kids came in every few minutes with fights and grips. Oddly Lilia was basaclally unfazed by the fact that she almost burnt the house down. It's unsettling.
I finally drifted off to sleep when Nifae came busting in and told me there was some inappropriate talk going on outside.
Long story short I got to give the next chapter of the sex talk to the boys. :/ I don't freak out about it but would have loved to do it after I'd slept more than a few minutes.
This particular talk was the worst because I had to explain something that he said but had no idea what he was talking about. He hated hearing about it. I hated talking about it. It was touch and go there for a while.
He got a bloody nose mid talk and got it all over my bed... That's cream color.
I finally went to sleep. Yes in the bloody bed. :(
Dad was cleaning the kitchen and making food. He's the best.
I finally did sleep for a few hours on and off. The kids kept coming in and out. Finally, I woke up because I could hear a million kid voices.
There were 8 kids in the house. Playing in the hall outside my door. I'm tired. Luckily, I got all the kids to clean up before they left.
I had to hit Costco before it closed in an hour.
I got there and it's the night before the Super Bowl. I seriously had to park next to the gas tanks and walk a mile in. I'm due in 6 days.
Owen and Lilia fought and ran around like something I've never seen before. They were not my kids. They were rotten bratty disobedient kids.
By the end of pushing that massive cart around with my massive belly I really thought I might go into labor with in the next few hours.
I still had to hit Harmons because my dad wanted corn beef.
I missed the exit and had to go the long way.
I called to commiserate with Tommy but he just yelled at me for doing all this while so pregnant.
He's not pulling into town until 12 hours before I'm induced. I'm sorry, but somethings need to get done.
I was sad to hear that if I did go into labor he'd still just wait until Thursday to fly in.
I'm not feeling the love. Not at all.
I almost cried when I pulled into Harmons and saw this beautiful thing.
It was so packed with everyone buying for Super Bowl. I was in pain. It hurt to walk and lift my legs. I felt broken.
Lilia was sweet and rubbed my back the whole way around the store.
I bought all the fixings for what sounded like the best thing ever:
Speaking of burn, I walked into a house that smelt like a disgusting ashtray and vomit.
No problem, I just have 5 families coming over for super bowl tomorrow. :S
I got all the groceries unpacked while dad made dinner.
I fabreezed the house while airing it out with freezing cold air.
I barely made it through dinner.
Dad made corn beef and cabbage and rice and of course the kids hated it.
It was really good. I just wanted to get into bed.
Owen and Lilia ( and Inoke) slept with me. Yes, in the bloody bed.
I got up to go to the bathroom and here I am blogging at 5 am.
Blogging while these two snore and I breath in the horrible smell of chared plastic.
I miss Tommy.
The nice one, not the one that yelled at me for not taking care of myself while in "this delecate" state before bed.
I need to pack my hospital bag. But I hate doing that small task for some reason.
I hate post delivery life.
Today is my last Sunday before I have the baby. I want to stay in bed all morning and most of the afternoon watching Dateline and Dr Phil recordings but I know I'd be sad if I missed church. And then I would feel super crapy if I missed church then through a total rager at my house that night for Super Bowl.
I'm plenty lame but that just doesn't sit right with me.
Not sure how to wrap this up other that to say all crappy days must come to an end.