I almost quit on Saturday. You can't blame me. Here's what happened.
I ran errands all day, getting home just at dinner time with loads and loads of groceries, unloaded the car, put up the groceries, fed the kids and was preparing dinner for me and Andy (usually we all have the same thing but that night we wanted blue cheese burgers and the kids wanted popcorn shrimp, and I complied thinking I was making my life easier - HA!). So there I was sauteeing onions and mushrooms while Stuart, who had already eaten, was swiffering my floors, I mean, crawling around. He made it over to William's plate and in one smooth move pulled the whole thing over on top of him, covering himself and my rug in ketchup.
I grabbed him and ran into the bathroom, sitting him on my lap while I ran the bathwater. I hollered at Andy to watch the pan on the stove and I undressed Stuart, trying to keep his ketchup feet off my skirt. Ketchup should have been the least of my worries though because as I ripped his diaper off, it was then and only then that I realized he'd filled it full. And what I flung out of it, all over the bathroom and all over me was oh so much worse than ketchup. There's just no other way to put this....the S _ _ t, literally, hit the fan.
So there I sat on the side of the tub, screaming HELP while trying to hang on to Stuart who, at that point, was hanging over the side of my leg standing on his head. And for some strange reason, I still didn't want the ketchup on me so I was hanging on to his feet with one hand and trying to figure out how to clean the rest of the mess up with the other. When Andy finally made it to the bathroom I told him I was quitting. Turning in my keys. Cleaning out my office. Filing for unemployment. I was outa there. As soon as I changed my clothes.
But then I woke up Sunday morning to three sweet babies, two of whom were so excited to give me their precious cards they had made for me last week. And the other one, I could tell, felt very very bad about the night before. A couple of sweet smiles and a fuzzy head lying on my shoulder and all was forgotten.
It's the hardest job I ever loved.