One of Those Days

From pretty much the moment I woke up this morning until now--8:33pm (knock on wood), it has been one of those days where I try to accomplish one task, only to turn around and discover 19 other things that had been previously checked off the list are now unchecked.  Nineteen times, oh, I don't know, about 72 extra tasks on top of regular stuff like laundry and cooking and cleaning up after cooking and eating and helping brush hair and teeth and clipping finger and toe nails and wiping bums (you know, the regular mommy stuff) is, what, 1349 extra things to do.  That's a lot of extra things.  By the time afternoon had come around and I had finished some weeding, bark dusting, going ghost busters on the wasps by my front door, redistributing the sand from the sandbox that my children had dispersed all around, and spraying down the back patio, I was getting a little "threadbare" in the patience department (because, there were extras, remember?).  Noelle asked if she could help spray the patio.  Sure.  She full-on super sprayed Ruby, by accident.  So, I began to strip poor, crying Ruby down when I notice Sam coming back outside with a plastic solo cup and I remember he had caught a spider earlier that day and put it in the cup.  "Did you bring that spider into the house!?"  What do you think?  So, I had a little cringing, trying-not-to-come-completely-unhinged, pull-my-hair-out moment when my husband comes in from mowing the front lawn/chit chatting with the next door neighbor/getting ready to leave for work because a patient was really having some pain on a Saturday and says to me, more or less, I should try to work on my patience.  This is true, but it is not what I want to hear at the moment.  Skip all the stuff that happens in the middle.  Note, Noelle got car sick.  All over.  Skip stuff that happens later on.  Finally, Noelle's is in bed, Ruby is in bed, and Sam is snuggling next to me getting ready for bed.  Blood curdling screams from Noelle's room.  Chad walks in and blood curdling screams from Chad.  I get up while Chad runs back to the hallway, grabs the closest puke catcher he can find which is my bucket of cleaning supplies from cleaning the bathroom, upends everything in the bucket and catches most of the vomit, but out falls the spray bottle...of bleach, which of course chooses this precise moment for the nozzle and head to completely fall apart and spill all over the carpet.  More puke clean up, more daughter clean up and carpet clean up (and please oh please don't bleach the carpet).  All this happens right outside the baby's door and now she is crying and Sam won't go to bed and I am ready for the day to be over.  Happy freakin' Saturday.