Back to Life...Back to Reality...

Are you singing with me? Have I totally dated myself?? My girlfriends will remember this song - don't remember who sings it - but I do remember the phrase being sung, "back to life..lah lah...back to reality...lah lah."

After 48 hours of bliss, heaven, peace, quiet, sleep, sun, food (prepared by others and served by others), a facial, massage, two movies, and conversations with my husband that were NOT interrupted by cries for juice, we have returned home. Back to the brutal reality.

We knew we had been gone long enough to relax when we started talking about how wonderful our children were, how cute they are, how fast they are growing, etc. We were happy to see the little buggers when we got home. Kara, as always, had done an amazing job with them. I don't think they even knew we were gone. Our house was clean and all children were sleeping (except Jeffrey) when we returned. Ahhh, it was so good to be home.

When he woke up from his nap, Blake complained that his belly hurt, but he is a bit jealous of Jeff's cast, so we wrote it off to Blake being sensative and melodramatic. We hit Payless for new tennis shoes for Blake and Brantley (we are the proud owners of Spiderman Shoes that LIGHT UP) and Steak N Shake for bowls of chili to go. The boys were all sitting at the table when Blake looks at Jeff and tells him that his belly still hurts, and then he throws up all over his new spiderman shoes. Welcome Home.

Jeff's instincts take over and he stands and bears weight on his broken foot (i.e. OUCH!). He returns to his seat and feeds Andrew as I clean up the barf, lysol the floor, and throw the new shoes and barf towels in the washer. Thank you, Whirlpool for the SANITZE 1 hour and 55 minute cycle. I clean up Blake, and we turn off the lights in the laundry room so we can watch his light up shoes light up in the washer. You have to see some humor in this with me, please.

We feed the others. Blake gets gatorade, but sneaks french fries since he declares he feels better. I start the bath process (individual ones tonight so if someone barfs it is not on each other) and Jeff heads off to shower as well. Well, there is no hot water since one of the twins had turned off the water heater in the garage. Poor Jeff (who has now gotten in and out of the shower on his crutches) crutches out to the garage to fix the heater, lecture the B's, and get a clean towel for himself.

We wait twenty minutes, and Jeff is off to try and shower. Brantley throws a fit over who knows what and decides to hit me in my face. I take him to Jeff (so I do not pinch his head off) and Jeff gets out of the shower to handle him. Are we having fun, yet??? Brantley composes himself and we open the masterbed room door to find Andrew and Blake quietly sitting outside it. I am tickled that they are concerned for the well-being of Brantley, but are obviously behaving as to not incur any wrath of their own.

Blake takes a bath without incident and we now have 3 out of 4 small children clean. We read books, rock, snuggle, and tuck the little darlings into bed. Thankfully, Blake does not barf again. Andrew is ticked and throws a fit (in his crib), but, unfortunately for him, he is #4. All he gets is a pat on the back, a sympathetic smile, and a shut door with a promise that we will see him in the morning.

I retrieve Jeffrey from our neighbor's kid's birthday party at 9 pm. He is a bit put out since he cannot spend the night, but is obviously tired. He melts into tears over the injustice of not being allowed to sleep over and I shuffle him into the shower and offer to wash his hair. This makes him feel better, and we quickly get into p.j.'s and lie down in his bed. He has not eaten in hours (no dinner, barely lunch - which greatly disturbs Jeff). He does, however, declare that his tummy hurts. I am not sure if he has the bug or is exhausted (or some combo of both), but I refuse Jeff's offer of chili for him. So I sing him to sleep with a pot tucked under his chin next to his pillow. 4 down.

It is now 10 PM. Jeff and I have our "budget talk" for the week so we are on the same page about finances before he has surgery on Monday - since I'll be paying the bills while he gets to be doped on on pain killers. Dinner dishes are still on the table and I switch out the laundry. I am thinking of a shower when Jeffrey walks into our bedroom while holding and barfing into the pot. He misses the pot and barfs all over the cardtable I have set up for Jeff next to the bed.

"aren't you glad I didn't feed him any chili?" I say to Jeff as I dump the barf pot and wipe Jeffrey's face. I break out the lysol spray and wipes and clean the card table. I settle Jeffrey onto the sofa in our room with a clean blanket and pillow, wipe down the bathroom in an attempt to keep Jeff healthy for surgery on Monday, and fire up the washing machine on sanitize mode - again.

It's 11:30. Dinner dishes are still waiting, but I read my email and blog instead of doing them. Could it really be that a mere 24 hours ago I was watching a movie? That I was sitting near the pool? That I was getting a massage and facial?? God knew I need 48 hours of rest. I'm glad I took them when I had the chance. The dinner dishes are calling me at 12:33AM.

Sing it with me..."back to life...lah lah...back to reeeeeallllllity...."