WARNING: Not for the Weak Stomach. This Happened.

Over the past few weeks, we, as a family, have been riddled with all kinds of sicknesses. It's been kind-of ridiculous, but we were all on the verge of getting better. Thee of the five of us have been on antibiotics, and things were starting to look less miserable.

Today started out as such a nice, little Sunday. We woke up (REALLY early, daylight savings time just ended, and the kids don't care about that). We went to church. We raked some leaves. The boys took a nap. Then, Henry woke up and was moving very slowly.

We handed him a bucket.

Not long after that, he perked up and asked for some Goldfish. I obliged (but also asked, "Are you sure about that, little buddy?").

Shortly after the snacking, I decided to bathe all the kids before dinner. (They had all dove into some filthy leaves earlier in the day and looked like something that came out of an old chimney. So, it needed to happen.)

I probably should've been at the ready when Henry asked the question, "Hey, Mom. What happens if you throw up in the bath?"

Just after pulling Henry out of the tub, Henry ran around the corner (out of the bathroom, of course), and this happened in the hallway. On carpet.

Note that he is puking ONTO the dog that is eating his vomit. Everett and I watch in horror.

I kid you not, as the kid was between heaves, he turned his head to say to Willis and me, "Are you guys going to eat dinner without me!?"

Then, he cried when all we gave him was dry toast.

After this scene (and cleaning it up), I had to sit down for a few minutes to recuperate. I was touch and go for awhile. I'm still a little borderline reliving the scene, honestly. I had to document it, though. This is classic stuff.

So, by the way, this is why I don't have new carpet.

Potty Training, Carpet Staining

My littlest has taken quite well to potty training so far. Actually, it probably shouldn't be called potty training. Let's just call it potty letting in my house. The word training assumes that I'm actively doing something to help my son along in this process. The reality is, I just forget to put pants on him.

In fact, this kid is so enthusiastic about potty training, he takes care of his potty himself . . .


. . . by running the full bucket, across the house, to the big toilet. (Do you like my censorship!? Haha!)

My middle child did the same thing, too, but back then, we didn't have carpet on every single floor surface like we do here.

So, I'm pretty glad we haven't, um, replaced the old carpet yet. Clearly.

Sweeping

This morning, I was tasked with sweeping our very large driveway so that Willis could seal it when he returns from work. It sounds simple enough, but with three kids, it isn't. I don't know what it is about a kid and a broom, but there is some magical force that actually makes them stand where sweeping needs to happen—even if there's hundreds of square feet of available space surrounding.

"Hey, buddy. Could you stand not there?"

Hiatus?

Whoopsie. I guess it's been over a year since I've even had time to sit down and sketch the chaos. Believe me, though, I've got a ton of material stored up in my mind vise. I'm hopin' to have time to crush it.

In the meantime, random stuff like this happens on occasion with my drawing-obsessed 5-year-old.

We were drawing each other. She was super serious. She chose my colors.

Good times! Hopefully, there will be more. Soon.