the one where I cried

It wasn't a great morning at my house. It started with Sam screaming for 45 minutes right after he woke up. I was trying to get all my herbs priced, so I could order them this afternoon, which is kind of a chore; I get herbs from about 4 different places. He woke up around 7:45, and I told him it wasn't quite time to get up yet. He knows exactly what that means, and normally has no problem, because he's allowed to turn on his light and play quitely until 8. Not so much this morning. He said, 'No, I don't have to.' I told him that he needed to stay in his room, and that's when the screaming started. And didn't stop until after 8:30. Not the geratest start to a day that I can think of.

Then Evie locked herself in the bathroom about 5 minutes later. She likes to turn the little button that locks the door, but then she shuts the door, while she is inside. And can't figure out how to turn the button back. It was after 9 before I got her out. The rescue effort involved a coat hanger, 2 screwdrivers, removing the doorknob, and some more using of the screwdriver. It was awesome. (That was sarcasm, by the way.)

By the time I had the kids' breakfast on the table, I was sobbing. I went into my room, cried for a while, almost strangled my cat when it clawed me, finally calmed down, washed my face, and came out and called my incredibly wise aunt, Rebecca. I love her. She was wonderful, reminded me that I am pregnant, have been sick (I'm feeling much, much better, by the way), and that I really would regret it tomorrow if I gave the kids away today.

After breakfast, I decided that no one needed to be in the house this morning, so we all went outside, with the guineas, until lunch. We actually had a great time, with minimal fighting and/or fussing.

The Stooges eating their 'treat,' white millet, out of one of Evie's toys.

Every time Evie sees this (below), she yells, 'No, guinea, don't eat your feathers!' in a slightly panicked voice. It's just too cute, and I want to eat her every time she says it.

As I wrote this, the kids were having lunch at the bar. Sam asked me if he could be excused, and I told him he could. As he was clearing his place, he dropped his plate, Evie's plate, and a glass cup. Everything broke.

I herded everyone outside for another hour, and pretended that there wasn't a foot-endangering mess all over the floor.

After being outside and playing with the guineas some more, it was my favorite time of the day: Nap Time!!!! Nap Time, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways ... (Nap Time was not so great yesterday, because neither of the kids slept at all.) I sent the kids upstairs to go to the bathroom while I started cleaning up the toe-threatening mess. Then,

EVIE LOCKED HERSELF IN THE BATHROOM. AGAIN.

WHILE THERE WAS STILL NO DOORKNOB ON THE DOOR.

WITH THE SCREWDRIVER I USED TO GET HER OUT INSIDE THE BATHROOM WITH HER.

People, I may go over the deep end if John gets stuck at work very late this evening. Pray I can get some sleep, or something. I'm not even all that tired, I just feel ... I don't know ... I feel weary. Is this normal when I'm pregnant? I don't even remember.