The No Good Very Bad Day.

WE are having a day.  Tuesdays are typically busy, and this one was scheduled to be ultra-busy.  Dentist appointment, piano lessons, Cub Scouts.... leave the house at 3 pm, get home around 8:30 pm.  I went to pick the boys up at school just in time to see Colby  jump up and pretend slap the student teacher in the head.  I watched as she glared at him the rest of the way down the hallway.  Great.  I asked the teacher how the boys' day went.  Apparently not so good.  Both got in trouble for throwing snow balls during recess.  So I eventually herded the cats boys out the door (15 minutes.  REALLY???  To put on boots and a coat and leave a building????), and made our way to the car, where Reagan started complaining about "hiccups".  I told her there wasn't a whole lot I could do about her hiccups - she could get some water when we got to the dentist's office.  But then... too late... I remembered that "hiccups" is Reagan's code word for VOMIT.  Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnddddddd....... there it was.  All over herself, all over the carseat, all over her brother.  Who proceeded to turn on his announcer voice and say "Reagan has now lost her lunch."  The other boy pretended to stick his hand in it and smear it all over his brother, and they both started threatening to ralph from the smell.  I rolled down the windows - mostly so they couldn't hear me swearing.

We made it to the dentist's office, and I took Reagan straight to the bathroom to clean up.  Did I mention before that it was pajama day at school?  Well, it was, and I had brought clothes for the boys to change in to, but what with the whole vomit exploding in the back seat... it just didn't happen.  So the boys were in their pajamas.  The other lady in the waiting room... the one with the toddler, the one who was obviously a first time parent....not so subtly went up the secretary, complaining that her daughter wanted to play on the ground, but THOSE BOYS were obviously sick and showed up to the dentist in their pajamas.    The secretary just looked at me and asked "are the boys sick?" , to which I replied "NO.  They're fine.  It was pajama day at school."  And as I said it, Reagan rushed into the bathroom and ralphed again all over the place.  By the time I came out, the waiting room was empty.  Apparently, the woman and her immuno-precious daughter decided to wait in their car rather than be near us.  The boys were wild as all get out (really??? Is a dentist's waiting room that fun that it causes you to roll around on the floor, and throw cars????), Reagan was complaining that her shirt was dirty, and the secretary was suddenly NOWHERE to be found.  I rang  the bell for service, and finally just yelled "We're leaving!  I need to reschedule!"  So... oh... there she was.  And just so helpful in getting us out the door quickly.

One more vomit on the way home for good measure, but this time I was nominally prepared and made Colby catch it in a cookie sheet that had conveniently been left in the car from Sunday's Cub Scout banquet.  There's a silver lining to being a slob, I guess.  I heard him say "This is the most disgusting thing I've ever done", which is saying alot, given his impressive resume.  But then both boys decided that this moment would be the perfect moment to rough house in the back seat, and to yell and scream and laugh uncontrollably.  Mom had HAD.ENOUGH.

No piano lessons.  No Cub Scouts.  And work WORK WORK when we get home. 
"You both owe me a chore." I said.  "You need to clean the basement."
"Reagan was the one who threw up.  Why's it OUR fault?" Colby whined.   I didn't trust myself enough to answer rationally.
"Would you rather go clean up vomit in the car? Because that's what I'm going to do right now.  Your choice - clean the basement, or go clean up disgusting vomit."

A minute later, Colby was still standing there, not moving.  "GET DOWNSTAIRS!" I yelled.  He just looked at me and said "Mom, I'm still deciding!"

"Deciding what???" I asked.

"If I want to clean up the basement, or the vomit in the car!"

"No, Colby.  You're cleaning the basement.  The vomit is disgusting.  I will do it."

"But Mom!  Even if it's grosser.... it's still QUICKER."

Go.  Clean.  NOW.

((((((SSSSSSIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH)))))).  Can I quit Motherhood?  Just for an evening?  I swear I'll be back in the morning, rearing to go.

ADDENDUM:  Dang kids.  Just when I'm ready to give up this mommy gig, the little turkeys go and get all cute on me.  Clean basement? No.  But they did play productively and quietly for the remainder of the evening, which is a rare and wonderful treat in and of itself.  Guess I'll have to keep 'em.