59 Minutes

MIL (mother-in-law, for the internet ole fogies) is scheduled to arrive in 59 minutes. So far this morning, I've been VOMITED on (at least it was on Alan's side of the bed, right?), sat on the floor of the bathroom singing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Fish" ("...those are NOT the right words, Mommy!") for an hour while holding an infant and desperately pleading with the boy who turns three on Monday to potty in the potty and not in the pull-up, spent 30 minutes in a Wal-mart bathroom, and nursed a baby on a bench in Wal-mart (which seemed unsanitary the entire time), unloaded tons of groceries, straightened up the living room and kitchen, dealt with a clint's problem (but. fortunately, not a problem client), and listened to Loki cry anytime I am not holding him, because he's stuffy and it all hurts.

Ander's birthday party is tomorrow. Despite limiting the guest list to only kids very near his actual age who he sees all the time and immediate family, I have almost 50 people coming. (Of course, my sisters peeps and parents make up 10 by themselves.) Talk about overwhelming. I am cooking tomorrow morning, but definitely doing dinner out tonight. And we'll do the gym meet, so I can destress, right?

I'm also trying to get Loki to take a paci. Yes, it means weaning later, but he seems to need to chew and keeps choking on covers and stuffed animals and clothing and vomiting everywhere. ICK!

Even noticed that the more stressed I am, the more disjointed my blog entries are?

Etcetera.