It’s 5:00 am. The bedroom is dark, the blankets are snuggly, the dogs are curled up with my sleeping husband like little furry hot water bottles. The three year old is laying naked on my side of the bed, drooling on my pillow. I am doing laundry. Why, you ask, am I doing laundry at 5:00 am in my underwear when its 10 degrees outside?
Because it’s Wednesday, of course.
There is a vicious rumor going around that Mondays are the worst day of the week. It’s all just propaganda. Wednesday is the true evil. Anything that could possibly go wrong will go wrong on Wednesdays, and a few things you didn’t even think were possible just to keep you on your toes. Because Wednesday, for all it’s faults, is never boring.
So back to my early morning laundry excursion.
The three year old had an accident in his bed. Twice. The first time was just after the stroke of Wednesday, and I was prepared with extra sheets and a waterproof mattress cover. I peeled off the cold, wet sheets, changed his pajamas and sent him back to bed. Unfortunately, I only have one mattress cover. That’s ok, I thought, he can’t possibly need to pee again. Right?
Just over four hours later, he peed again. Of course he did. This is the same child who can go ALL DAY without peeing. Luckily, I got to his sheets before they soaked into the mattress. Not so luckily, those were the last sheets that fit his bed. Thus, the laundry.
After putting all his bedding in the wash, I dug through the linen closet to find something to put on his bed. I spread an old top sheet from our queen sized bed over his mattress and replaced his duvet. Good enough. I crept back into my bedroom, planning to carry him to his bed. When I arrived I found him on his side, snuggling one of the dogs like a stuffed animal. It might have been the cutest thing I’d ever seen, if it wasn’t 5:00 am. In the end, I didn’t have the heart to move him so I grabbed the baby monitor and skulked back to his room.
I’m not freakishly tall, but I am definitely too tall for a standard twin mattress. Especially one with a footboard. So I had to lay, diagonally, with my feet sticking off the bed out to the side. I was too tired to care. Finally, I started to drift off to sleep again when I heard a sound over the monitor. It’s a sound that all parents with small children recognize immediately.
At first, it just sounds like a little groan. Maybe he’s just rolling over and trying to get comfortable. So you wait, holding your breath. Then you hear it again. Louder this time. It’s more of a grunt than a groan. No, you think, it couldn’t be. Yes, it could. It is Wednesday, after all. Another grunt followed by a loud squelching sound. Now it’s undeniable. Code BROWN!
I glanced at my video monitor. I’m not sure why. I had all the evidence I needed, but part of me was still hoping he might just sleep through it. No chance. There he was, silently staring at the camera, his eyes lit up like a wild animal in headlights. I get up. Again. Maybe this will be quick.
As I pick him up out of his bed I know immediately that something isn’t right. There is a dark stain on the sheets where he was laying. I’m not sure why, but my first instinct is to look around the room for someone to whom to delegate this task. Finding no one, I started stripping the baby. Then I stripped the bed.
I laid the baby on the rug in his room and change his sheets. At least I had extras this time. As soon as he hit the floor, the baby immediately rolled onto his stomach and started pulling the shag fibers out of his rug and stuffing them in his mouth. I picked him up, picked the rug fibers out of his mouth and sat down in the rocker to nurse him. He wasn’t impressed.
It took me about half an hour to get him back to sleep. At this point it was nearly 6:00 am and I was now awake. I left the baby asleep in his room, padded back down the hallway to my bedroom to find some clothes. Somehow I was still wearing nothing but a t-shirt and underwear. I passed silently through the bedroom into the closet.
Did I mention that I wasn’t wearing socks?
Well, I wasn’t. It’s a good thing too, because if I had been wearing socks I might not have noticed the cold dog vomit that was laying in wait on the carpet in the closet, and that I had just stepped in. At least, I think it was vomit. It was dark. I didn’t look too closely. This, my friends, is what we like to call a “hat trick” in my family. Excretions all around. Lucky me.
I’d like to say I then took a shower, or at least washed my foot in the bathtub. But that would be a lie. I actually wiped my foot on some dirty laundry, grabbed some sweatpants and socks, closed the door to the closet and pretended I hadn’t seen anything. I guess I can kiss that Wife of the Year award goodbye. It seemed a small price to pay at the time.
Once downstairs, I looked that the clock on my phone. 6:38 am Wednesday. There was a lot of Wednesday still to come. I made a cup of tea and sat down to try and nap in the recliner. About 15 minutes later I hear a very loud “Ack!” from up stairs. Someone must have gone into the closet. He emerged at the bottom of the stairs a few minutes later, a very grumpy, still naked three year old in tow. He was only wearing one sock.
“Happy Wednesday” I said as the baby started crying and the three year old farted in my husband’s hand.
Let the games begin!
“If I had a place like [TGI Fridays], I’d call it HSIOW. Holy Shit It’s Only Wednesday. Because I think people would drink a lot more liquor if they thought it was Wednesday all the time.” -George Carlin