Another Morning

This week I took R(6) and T (2) for well visits (to establish patient care with our new doctor- with whom I am very happy!- before we move). Found out that T has a yeast infection causing red, flaking skin on his privates. R, she thinks, has chicken pox. Since we had already been in the waiting area, the bathroom, and the entire wing of patient rooms, we effectively shut down the pediatrician's office until they could sanitize. We went from there to the lab for blood work on R to confirm chicken pox. It was a long morning!

Yesterday I was reading Bible to the bigger kids and T went upstairs for something. I was actually a bit relieved; often keeping 5 children quiet and still is more than I can do. I did wonder what he was doing. Then, when he did start down the stairs, he was crying. His privates hurt. So, I took him to the bathroom to apply more Greer's Goo (soothes and helps with the yeast).

I noticed the toilet paper roll was empty. Uh-oh. He must have been using the potty earlier. I know that roll was nearly full. "That's okay," I told myself, "it's just one roll of toilet paper."

I helped T put his clothes and shoes on and had everyone headed to the van to run our errands (pick up more medicine for T, library, market), whereupon things deteriorated even more. T wouldn't allow O to buckle him because his bum hurt. When I went back to try, I realized that the situation was not going to work and therefore, we all unloaded and went back into the house as I scrambled in my mind to think of what would help.

The goo didn't help and T was itching and crying inconsolably, so I put him into a cool bath and called the pediatrician. When I turned around, I noticed a huge pile of toilet paper on the floor. Uh-oh. "Well, good," I told myself, "that roll wasn't entirely wasted. We can still use this."

That's when I glanced into the wastebasket. . . and saw SIX empty toilet paper tubes (and one more still hanging forelornley on the wall). Uh-oh.

And M (2 months), was still strapped in his carseat and crying from downstairs. And L (5) had been expressly warned not to touch him. And the big boys, having nothing better to do, were chasing each other around and laughing.

It's moments like these that I should laugh, but I'm not an easy laugher. To my credit, I didn't cry, either. Just another day.