you just never know what you’re gonna get.  (Picture me, half a bubble off, slowly drawling this out while sucking wine out of my sippy cup with a straw, shoveling in said chocolate and covered in dry erase marker…)

So, the day started innocently enough…  Up at 5 to work out, (mid workout, my little men decide to visit with me and question me EVERY FIVE SECONDS while I am STANDING ON A 14 INCH STEP HOLDING WEIGHTS…) devotions with the hubby & kids, off to pre-school with the little man, patting myself on the back as I pull into the church parking lot an entire FIVE MINUTES EARLY.   (And I haven’t forgotten any of the kids today.)  Anyone who has known me for even 5 minutes is aware that FIVE MINUTES EARLY for me is the equivalent of some people achieving the goal of writing a dissertation and receiving a Ph.D.  Seriously.
The many mini Macs unbuckle and begin popping out of the rockin’ mom van I drive…(just making sure you understand how NOT COOL I am…) to walk Sammy into school.  As he pops out and lands squarely in the parking lot, I am suddenly aware that he is wearing, *gasp,* FLIP FLOPS!  This is a serious pre-school NO NO.  In addition, I am fully aware that if he does not wear himself out on the playground during school, my big beans will not have math during nap time, as there will be no nap time…thereby causing a loss of essential math skills/mommy sanity, and exponentially increasing my wine intake for the later part of the day, which is NOT in the budget and for which I am NOT prepared.  (I’ve had a few too many napless days lately, so my wine stores are depleted and my kids are getting stupider.  Yep, that’s a word.  I said so and I’m the teacher.)

LORI VINSKUS…are you dying from my ridiculously ranting run on sentence yet??????? bahahaha!

SO.  I determine that I am going to run home to get his shoes and drop them at school.  Meanwhile, I’ve somehow blamed Eva for the fact that Sam is wearing the wrong shoes, so she is ticked and pouting, I’m fuming and muttering, the littles are in the back YELLING at full volume, and Charley is attempting to discuss her playdate with the other Charlie and is asking me every bloody question under the sun in relation to said playdate.  ARGH!
Ah, but ding, ding!!!!!!  I realize that Sam actually has shoes in his backpack because his GENIUS MOTHER put them there last thursday in case his new shoes were too big.   Wow, I am just so awesome.  NOT.  If I had stopped being a terd to Eva long enough to take a breath, I might have realized this BEFORE I made my oldest feel like poo.    SO, needless to say, I called the school and informed them he actually did have shoes, they just had to switch them out.  Should be smooth sailing from here, huh?
Not.
Wondering what could possibly make my day go awry now???????
Well, just let me tell you.
NAPTIME.  Stupid NAPTIME.  Stupid, stupid, stupid naptime.
Actually, it’s really my fault naptime is stupid.
I had the audacity to think that my youngest child should move into a toddler bed because he FINALLY uses the TOY-let and, well, he IS 3.  
This was a really stupid thought.  (No thesaurus used here.  Stupid is just the perfect word for this tale…)
It took all of about 3 days for him to figure out that he didn’t HAVE to stay in the bloody bed when I put him down.  This has resulted in the now removed crib side being firmly BUNGEE corded to the toddler bed, thereby preventing the little terd from escaping.  Thereby also keeping me from going insane.
Well, the bungee process did not go well today.  I snapped the stupid cord, scratched the bed and couldn’t remember for the life of me how to get the stinking thing done.  Once I finally did jury rig it, I got the other 2 laid down.  WELL, Miss Mercy doesn’t really DO nap time.  She just tortures the crap out of me by getting up every 10 minutes or so, which is the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard to me…
Finally, little people decided to rest.  Ahhhh, this MUST be what heaven feels like!  Math gets *almost* done, so off we go to dance.
I have sent Charles to the commissary…so in the midst of all this, my phone is BLOWING UP with texts that query the location of the weird food items I must now eat on my annoying and weird diet of gluten and dairy free food…(this is NOT a choice, I mean, seriously, who chooses to NOT eat fried mushrooms or ice cream?????)
Dance goes well, I pick up Eva and we motor back home to have some outdoor play.  The littles commence fighting over the blue jeep, Charley checks out and starts riding her bike and Eva hops on her scooter….
Fast forward approximately 5 minutes…one scooter mishap later, my oldest bean is whimpering on the grass, holding her wrist, exclaiming, “Mommy, it hurts, it hurts!”
Mind you, my children scream at EVERYTHING.  It doesn’t matter if it’s a paper cut or a bat over the head (NERF BAT…,)  they are screamers.  Just a few days ago I had given the typical Mom lecture, you know the one.  It’s when you tell them that one of these days they’ll really be hurt and you won’t be sure if you buy it…Well, I’m here to tell ya, when they are really hurt, you just know it.  My screamer was whimpering and I just knew that little wrist of hers had sustained some damage.
A flurry of phone calls to my fantastic friend and pediatrician later and we had come to the conclusion it was most likely broken.  Since we live in the midst of a huge marine base with an overabundance of people who use the ER as regular medical care *ugh,* we conclude that we are splinting and waiting for morning for x-rays and an ortho visit.
One set of x-rays, one buckle fracture, and one Carolina blue cast later….

 SO.  Like I said, homeschooling mondays are like a box of chocolates…you never know what you’re gonna get!

love,
me (yep, stuffing my face with chocolate and sippin’ my wine…)