Sticky Situation

There's not much I miss about my life before kids. Yesterday, though, I was reminded of something that I do miss. I really miss being allowed to be sick.

There is no good time to be sick, but at least before kids, I was allowed to be sick once in a while. Call in sick, and back to bed with tea and Jerry Springer. Oh wait, this is one of those tricky grammatical situations where one or two words changes the whole meaning. Let me clarify: I actually have an extremely low tolerance for Jerry Springer. It depresses me and makes me sad for the future of our country. But before kids, I at least had the option of watching Jerry Springer. Not anymore. So when I woke up yesterday with every part of my body aching, I knew it probably wasn't going to be a great day. (For the record: I admire those of you whose motto is "Make it a Great Day!". However, I am a realist. Some days are just not going to be all that great. On these days, my personal mottos include: "Make it a Survivable Day", "Make it a Day Where No One Gets Hurt", and "Make it a Day Where I Don't Want to Drown Myself in a Vat of Whiskey.")

I struggled through breakfast, wondering if I could somehow make waffles and lay on the couch at the same time. When everyone had eaten, I retired to the couch with the new comforter that my sister gave me for Christmas. I love this comforter. It is my new best friend. And yes, she gave it to me. I do not have to share it with anyone. And I don't. Not even Jimmy. And yesterday, I really loved it. If I didn't have the option of watching mindless grown-up TV, at least I had my new, warm, incredibly fluffy comforter.

I was vaguely aware that there was chaos going on around me, but I felt powerless to stop it. So, I encouraged lots of mindless kid TV and fortunately, N was off school and could alert me when her brothers' antics were turning dangerous by screaming "MMMMOOOOOOOOMMMMM" loud enough to burst my eardrums, which were already aching like every other part of my body.

I struggled through lunch. I can't tell you what they had for lunch, but it was something edible, and I know that preparing it required me to leave my couch and comforter for some period of time. I struggled through diaper changes--struggled really being the key word here--and I think one of my three children may have gotten dressed at some point yesterday.

I finally decided that a shower was in order, though I wasn't really sure I could make myself leave my couch and comforter again. Eventually, I made my way upstairs and discovered that the hot water made things stop aching. This caused me to take a longer shower than usual. Well, that, and the fact that I think I may have briefly fallen asleep in there. When I heard N say in a very controlled, yet very angry voice "You...Had...Better..Put...That...Down...Now.", I thought I should probably get out. Wow. She does a really good angry voice. This is not good. I make a mental note to watch my tone and/or start taking xanax. When I heard her add a not so controlled "NOW!", I was afraid of what I was going to find. And I should have been.

I threw on clothes--well, as much as you can "throw" on clothes when everything is starting to ache again--and was looking forward to returning to my couch and comforter. As I came downstairs, I immediately noticed a strong smell of....something sweet. I couldn't place it immediately. But as I stepped in something sticky, I realized that it was syrup. N and B love syrup. N and B love it so much in fact, that they lick it off of their plates. (No, I don't LET them do this. I let them do very little. That doesn't mean they don't do it). Until yesterday, O hadn't had syrup. I'm pretty sure he loves it now, too.

Although I was now standing in a puddle of syrup, I still couldn't figure out why the smell was so strong. Until I looked around. And realized that there was syrup everywhere. Living Room floor: syrup. Kitchen Floor: Syrup. Kitchen walls: syrup. kitchen door: cap from bottle of syrup. Stuck to door with...syrup. O: syrup (I had remembered to put him in his pack and play. But if you can't go to the syrup, apparently the syrup comes to you). B's hair: syrup...and something else. I smell his head and realize that peanut butter had also been involved. There has been a peanut butter and syrup party while I was in the shower. N is trying to fill me in on B's escapades while I am walking around, finding more puddles of syrup. I want to cry. And then I remember my comforter, and pray that the syrup hasn't made it that far. To my shock, there isn't a drop. Thank you God.

So, while I really wanted--needed-- to be on the couch with my new syrup-free comforter, I was scrubbing syrup and peanut butter off the floors, the walls, the doors, and my children, while I was also sweating, wondering if I was going to pass out, and thinking that syrup and peanut butter really smell pretty gross together. As I found a puddle next to the trash can, I thought of N and B's love for syrup, and hoped no one had licked any off the floor. And then, when I thought I was done and found yet another puddle, I thought, why would that have been a bad thing, exactly?

Come to find out, yesterday was National Peanut Butter Day. They were just celebrating! And National Maple Syrup Day was December 17th, but we didn't know that then. Thus the joint celebration yesterday. I briefly thought of banning all future celebrations, but that just wouldn't be right. In fact, we should celebrate more.

National Margarita Day is February 22nd, but I'm just going to start a little early. If you're looking for me, I'll be licking the tequila off the floor.

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