72 hours

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I ask the couple who are in for their ultrasound appointment...four lovely follicles...maybe four not so lovely kids two years from now. Oh yes! is the response...I remember that bright eyed innocence and enthusiasm for everything we imagined parenthood would be so I don't elaborate on the fun I've been having on the domestic front this week.

On the weekend, both girls get a cold but are coping pretty well. Lil works on her pioneer house project for school with Dad and then we go out to the movies to see Arthur Christmas (a great movie by the way). The theatre is a little grimy, like 500 kids have run through dropping popcorn everywhere and wiping their noses on the chairs. I get home to find that a piece of wood Tony brought in from the workshop has fallen against the gas stove which heats the back porch. It's hot but not on fire. Whew..dodged a bullet I think.

By Monday, Dad and Grace have nausea and the trotts likely from the multiple organisms floating around the cinema but nothing slows this household down. Dad sits on the toilet with his i phone managing the latest crisis in L&D, and Grace throws hissy fits. Lil goes to swim practice because I'm betting the chlorine will kill anything in her gut. I'm playing cranky nurse.

On Tuesday, I smell smoke and find that the glue gun from the pioneer house project has been left plugged in on the wooden basement floor since Sunday and it is ready to burst into flames. I loose my mind momentarily and accuse my two oldest children of trying to burn the house down. Tony runs to the driving range, Lil slinks off to bed after once again losing her allowance for the week and Grace throws a hissy fit. The family tiptoes around my forcefield for the next 12 hours.

Wednesday morning is very quiet...too quiet. Grace's interest in her bodily functions has peaked and she takes up finger painting the master bathroom minutes before Lil is due at school. A cold shower (for her), half a bottle of bleach on the bathroom fixtures takes the obvious stench out and I'm back on schedule 3 minutes later. I apologize to the teachers for the lingering aroma and rush off to work where Crystal mentions that I don't smell as bad as I did when the dogs got skunked. I take it as a complement but in exasperation comment on the reproductive habits of water fowl.

Tonight it is quiet again. Tony's working out, Lil's swimming and Grace is supposed to be sleeping. I need some quick and easy therapy, so I've cracked open a Fat Bastard Merlot and a pint of Chunky Monkey because fat and crazy is where I'm headed. Tony slides in an apology when he senses my blood alcohol level is high enough. "You burn our house down, I'll surgically alter you" (this is paraphrased) I respond graciously.

And so, Peace is restored.