Why do good weekends always end on a sour note?
We had a good weekend. Delicious dinners, lots of family we don't get to see very often, a trip to the zoo, a trip to the theatre. And then yesterday.
The morning went amazingly smoothly. The girls did everything they were supposed to with the promise that we would get out Christmas decorations after church. You would think tomorrow was Christmas Eve, the way they were begging. We did church, I taught Primary. (Yes, I did get released. And I haven't been to Relief Society yet. Everyone keeps asking me to sub!) Came home and started making lunch. Threw the corn dogs in the oven, washed the dishes, turned the girls into pack animals and they brought up all the decorations. (I love that they want to help AND are capable of helping.)
The timer went off on the oven for lunch. I pulled the tray out of the oven and could still see the ice crystals. At first, I thought it was me. I was stupid and forgot to turn on the oven. But, sadly, no. The oven was on. It was just cold.
There goes our budget for the month. Awesome.
Then, around 11:30 I am shaken awake by Eden. "Seth is throwing up in his bed." The thing every mom wants to wake up to in the middle of the night. I got him cleaned up and made a bed for him in my room. And, as luck would have it, I couldn't fall back asleep.
It's a good thing I just spent an entire weekend being grateful, or I would be pretty depressed about this turn of events.