Technically, I only "misplaced" the baby & Why sleepovers are awesome*

This morning as I was working out, I was planning my day.  Since the Hurricane was at a sleepover and I wasn't due to pick him up until 2 (2pm! Can you believe it? Usually it's noon pick up), I had all morning to Get Stuff Done.  The schedule: caulk some weatherstripping around the Princess and Little Dudes' windows.  Run into town, go to Michaels.  Grab stuff for prettifying cafe noir chocolate truffles.  Go to grocery store. Grab groceries.  Pick up Hurricane.  Come home, prettify truffles.  Try not to eat them all.  Make some Chocolate Candy Cane Cookies.  Try not to eat them all. Congratulate self on Getting Stuff Done.  Have relaxing evening.

Well.  The first hitch came when I was putting on the weatherstripping.  I was in Little Dude's bedroom and I thought I heard him in the Princess' bedroom.  When I went in her room to do her window, he wasn't there.  He wasn't in his own room, and he wasn't in the living room.  I checked the bathroom and the dining room: no baby.  Kitchen: no baby.  Entryway: no baby.  Man the Panic Stations.  Check every room again.  No baby. Flip open the cover of the Panic Button.  Check every room again and even open front door to see if by some stretch of physics he opened the door and decided to go for a walk (in -28C weather).  Can't hear baby noises anywhere.  Try to make brain stop thinking of horrific and terrible accidents that can occur when children are out of direct eyesight for 60 seconds. Insert and turn key of Panic Button to Enable.  Tell self to calm the fuck down and order heart to stop having heart attacks.  Hand is hovering over Panic Button.  Get brilliant idea to check staircase.  Run to stairs, see baby sitting on bottom stair in the corner, smiling and playing with the Princess's magic wand.  Have complete and total nuclear meltdown on the inside from the sheer relief.

Then we went to town.  Town was good.  Town was a success.  I got Doreen's older daughters to watch my two babies.  (It is not lost on me that a 13-year-old and an 11-year-old did not misplace the baby.)  I got the stuff I needed from Michaels and the grocery store, and Doreen and I got to hang out for a couple hours while I did my running around.

When I went to pick up the Hurricane, his little friend's mom told me that the kids had a great time, my son was well-mannered (yay! threatening their little lives does work!), they were up until 11, and Hurricane was up at 7 because he had gotten sick and puked all over the bed and himself.  It was at that moment that I remembered the Princess had some nasty poops the day before, so I figured it was a virus that the kids had passed to each other.  He said his tummy felt much better after he threw up.  As I was profusely and sincerely thanking her for taking such good care of my kid, I was also thinking in my head, Score! At least he didn't barf in his bed at home.**

**This completely blew up in my face.

*I thought of the title right before this happened:

On the way home; as in, we are less than 3 minutes away from our house, my Hurricane says to me, "Mommy, I don't feel goo-BBBAAARRRRFFF!  GLLURRRRRP!  REEEETTTTCCCCHH!"

He varminted. All over himself.  His booster seat.  My truck seat.  The floor of my truck.  Various and assorted toys laying on the floor.  Poor, poor little guy.  He was so upset.  I sped home and got him into the shower while I brought in groceries and babies and baby paraphernalia and wondered how the hell I was going to get varmint out of my upholstery.  After throwing the toys and his booster seat into the snow, I ended up using laundry soap and a scrubber to scrub out the barf.  At -28C (-18F) I don't have the intestinal fortitude to do a good job, or even a half-assed job.  I maybe did a quarter-assed job, but I sprayed lots of Febreze.  That must count for something.

And that is why this post is being done at 8:30 on Sunday night.  It is currently -27C (hey, it warmed up!) and the last thing I want to do is go outside in the cold and the dark and scrape varmint off a booster seat and throw on a wash of barfy clothes and toys.  Instead, I sit in a nice, cozy house and write about it instead.

And how was your weekend?