Flashback Friday- clasjlrkjlkjclwuer!LKJlkjc

It has been, onehellofaweek. The kind of week that seems more like one extra long Monday. And not just any Monday, but the kind of Monday that you'd have after a nice relaxing vacation (not that I know what thats like, because I haven't spent more than 5 seconds away from my kids since they were born), and then maybe your hot water heater breaks down on top of it, and you burn dinner, or something? A Monday like that. Only, all week long.

Christopher started swings this week. Our entire schedule has been thrown off, and the adjustments that we haven't quite gotten right, are adding up and taking their toll.

I have a Kidney infection. I feel like my internal organs are walking around with poster board signs, on strike, refusing to operate the way they know they're supposed to. Also, it burns when I pee. Too much info? Well, I'm on a roll.

I had to go to WIC on Tuesday. And while I love my 12 gallons of free soy milk per month (really, I do, it helps us tremendously), I can't stand being shuffled around, in and out of the waiting room 800 times in a 2 hour period, and getting talked to like I don't know how to give my kid a cup of watered down juice. Also, if it was you that let your kid leave his half eaten hot dog on the ground in the play area, for all the other kids to step on- I'm sorry to say this so rudely, but- you suck.

Did I mention that I have a kidney infection? Because this deserves two sections. I had to go to the base clinic on Monday, and they couldn't just check me in and see me like a normal doctors office. They had to hand me a clipboard, tell me to fill out the paperwork, send me to another lobby down the hall, and when I got there, they sent me down to the lab (clipboard still in hand, nothing filled out yet), and when I get down there, they ask for a card thing that I don't have, because nobody has actually talked to me, so I have to fill out even more paperwork, then I do lab work, then they send me back upstairs to another waiting area, and then I'm finally finally finally given a room, and the first thing they ask me when we get in the room?? The same crap that they made me fill out on the clipboard. Also, my antibiotics aren't working.

I had to go to the store the other day. Rather than going alone, and having some relaxing Me time, I thought I'd be a rad Mom and take Eleanore. Just me and her- because shes never getting enough attention, and I'm really trying to make an effort to love my children equally. So I invite her to come with me, and ...she says no. She'd rather stay at home with Daddy. Why? Because hes fun, and I'm not. Of course. So I pout, snap at her with my hurt feelings, and then ask Charlie if he wants to come with me. He doesn't really give me a yes or no answer, so we get all bundled up to go out in the cold, and take off towards the commissary. Only, the entire way there, hes screaming for Daddy (the fun one, remember?). I tell him over and over again, that Daddy is at home, and we're going to go ride in the rocket ship, and he can help me pick out peanut butter, and he can help me grab the milks, and blah blah blah we're going to have fun stop crying! When I go to get him out of his car seat, he throws his body stiff, I have to pry toys out of his hands, and practically rip him from the van. When we get into the store, I lift him up into the rocket ship shaped shopping cart, and he literally leaps back out, all while still screaming (he never stopped). So I pick him up, turn around, and walk straight out. I strap him back into his seat, and take him straight home. I say "go play", open the front door to the house, push him inside, and turn around and go back to the store, alone and crying to myself.

On Wednesday morning I went to the gym. When I got home I was sweaty and gross, the typical post workout stinky- and I was later on supposed to go meet up with a friend. Before our date, I was really hoping to at least change out of my slimy racquetball clothes, or better yet, take a shower. But because my husband thought that he needed to go to the gym, and that he needed to take his time making a deluxe protein shake, and that he needed to take a shower and get all cleaned up after all of that (because his personal hygiene is way more important than mine)- I had to take care of all of the kids, get everyone fed, change 1,000 diapers, and by the time I was shoving some cereal into a plastic baggy as my late lunch, it was time to go, and I was still in my sweaty gym clothes with my greasy hair. Christopher drank his stupid protein shake in the car next to me as I drove him to work. The kids screamed when he got out of the van. I then drove off of a cliff.

Okay or maybe I didn't.

Today I made bread. From scratch, because thats our only option. And I thought that since I was being extra awesome, I might as well make french toast for dinner tonight. We never have bread in the house, so I might as well make everyones favorite, right? Go all out? ...well, in order to have the french toast made and ready by the time Christopher comes home for dinner, I had to nurse the baby one armed in the kitchen, sitting down on the floor by the stove when she'd lose her latch, and then hand her off to the papisan between rounds and burps, so that I could have both of my hands free for handling the raw eggs. And all while the feeding drama is going on in the kitchen, the other two are in the living room fighting over the stupidest stuff (a baby computer toy, a lego man, someone putting their foot on the other ones couch cushion), and in the end I had to drag the oldest up the stairs to her room, because she refused to listen to me, stood up inside of her baby dolls cradle (I have no idea how it supported her weight), and tried to throw a candle at me. A CANDLE. And did I mention that the baby is still crying in the papisan, because I'm not done feeding her? And dinner is burning on the stove. Oh, and I can't even the dang french toast. Because of my food allergies. I made it for them. I was burning it, for them. But thats not the best part. Want to know the best part?? The part that sent me to the couch, sobbing into the fabric, while the baby was spitting up all over my shoulder? My husband didn't even come home to eat it!

Charlie started having night terrors.

Evelyn keeps pulling my hair out of my head.

Eleanore thinks that shes queen of the freakin' world.

And does nobody else know how to pick up a dang broom and sweep the floors?!

...did I mention I'm allergic to alcohol? I blame half of this rant on that, and the other half on hormones.

See, I even used the fancy font to say so. I'm just- exhausted. Tired from going to the gym 2 days in a row. Tired from sweeping and steam mopping my entire house in 15 minutes like a crazy lady. Tired from this stupid kidney infection.

Because I'm only human.
Or am I dancer?

For this weeks flashback, I'm going to post some of my favorite pictures of my family, the ones that make me the happiest, to pull myself out of this funk, remind myself why I'm putting up with no shows for burnt french toast, and hope that tomorrow is a better day...

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Flashback with us! Go through your polaroids, scrapbooks, old crappy cell phone pictures- whatever you've got. Scan them, upload them, get them onto the computer somehow, and then share them with the world! Or... with us at least. Post them onto your blogs, write a little bit to go with them- tell us your story. When you're all finished, grab one of our buttons from down below (wayyyy down there at the bottom of our page) and put it somewhere inside your post (or link back to us the old fashioned text way). Come back here to this post, and add your link to the photo list below!