And that was Wednesday.

Some days make you want to crawl back under the covers and sleep right through.

Today was one of those days. It started off fast and furious as we all had to get ready for school, work and volunteering. The days where all of us have to be clean and out the door early are very stressful. I am sure we aren't the only household that feels that way! I bet all of you can relate.

As we headed out the door, we noticed that our dog was vomiting...blood.  We had to leave RIGHT THAT VERY MINUTE and we couldn't really care for her the way she needed.  I was concerned about the blood and made a mental note to call the vet. ASAP. 

And by ASAP, I really mean 3 hours later.

Wednesday is my day to volunteer for both kids' teachers.  I love this morning because I can actually accomplish something important for someone else.  It is the best feeling to get a job done.  Anyway, I started my pile of work only to find all the copiers were either jammed or needed repair.  I was so frustrated.  I hate the thought of letting anyone down, especially teachers.  I know how hard they work and how much they depend on volunteers.  I fought my way through a couple of paper jams and ended up getting the work done.  Between the machines and my little "helper" who wouldn't sit in the stroller, it was an irritating morning.  In a last ditch effort to maintain my composure I handed him the phone to call grandma.  It was a lifesaver and gave me ten minutes to finish.

Next, we moved on to Wit's music class.  My great friend, Alana, teaches Kindermusik.  We spent an hour singing, dancing, swinging, tickling, exploring instruments and movement.  I love this time with Wit.  It was the bright spot in this crummy day.

Little did I know it was going to get a whole lot worse.

After class, I called the vet to ask about the blood Bristow was vomiting.  They were concerned but it didn't require an appointment.  Thank goodness!  The bad news was that I had to give her Pepto Bismol every hour.  The thought of shooting 3TSP pepto down my dog's throat with a turkey baster really didn't sound like a whole lot of fun.  My smart husband thought she would just drink it out of a bowl and I thought he was CRAZY.  Despite my effort to prove him wrong, she did the very thing he predicted and drank it right out of the bowl.

Smart alec.

Anyway, I was relieved that I didn't have to wrangle a seventy pound dog to the ground and pump HOT PINK LIQUID into her stomach only for her to vomit it out on my carpet.

You're jealous, aren't you?

It seemed like everything that could go wrong today  did.  Nothing I touched worked or cooperated.  I was left feeling tired and run down.  Wednesday nights we meet with our Home Church group.  I admit that I walked in with a major attitude.  I was wiped out and mad at the day.  So, I really was not mentally or emotionally prepared for what happened next.

"Isn't that just kick- you-in-the-crotch, spit-on-your-neck fantastic?"  (bonus points for naming that TV quote)  This day just spiraled into madness!

My baby got hurt.  He was running toward the dining room chairs and fell into one of the sharp edges.  It wasn't a big cut, but it was deep enough that we worried about scarring.  We consulted a family friend who is a doctor.   He suggested going to Urgent Care to get it glued.  Wit wanted his favorite friend to go with him, so Skip opted to take them while I stayed back with the other kids and our Home Church.

GUILT.  MAJOR MOM GUILT.

Anyway, they got to Urgent Care one minute after they locked up for the night.  The only other option was the ER.  There, they got him all cleaned up and glued together. 

One funny thing happened while they were at the hospital.  Our friend texted his wife and said that the doctor thinks that he and Skip are, well...a couple. It was a much needed laugh given my low emotional state.

Finally this day is at the end.  (And, thankfully, so is this post.)  We took our brave little patient to the Golden Arches for a car full of yummy medicine...aka 49 cents of pure awesome.  THE CONE.  There's a reason McD's owns the world.

Wit is so proud of his ice cream cone, his owie, and his new bear from the hospital.  That he promptly named, "Bob."

Long story short, I wish I could have stayed in bed and hid from this no-good-horrible day.

*sigh*

Here's to a better tomorrow without bloody dog vomit, broken machines, and trips to the ER.