the only thing worse than sick Charlie...

is sick Charlie in addition to:
-teething Stella
-overtired Charlie
-overtired Stella (thanks a lot Thanksgiving. I hate holidays. Call me a J-Dub if you must, Nick.)
-exhausted Cam with loads of meetings
-Cam trying to sleep through screaming children
-attempting to find a clear spot on the counter to set down bottle of tylenol
-clearing said counter by pushing everything into the sink with forearm, with screaming child on hip, screaming child hanging on legs and snot and slobber all over me
-running on no sleep. Give me a newborn over Charlie with a runny nose any day
-realizing that there has been sickness in our house for at least 9 of the past 12 weeks
-cleaning up after multiple potty accidents in one day
-eating mashed potatoes from a box, because we haven't been to the store in ages
-falling apart, yelling "just stop crying!" at my child and having my failed patience reinforced by my little one parroting, "stop. stop. stop. stop" and pointing her finger as she says, "no way! no way! no way!"
-hauling the kids to the car at least twice a day in an attempt to get at least one to sleep
-sitting in the driveway listening to Dave Ramsay so that the kids can be sleeping soundly before I move them
-opening the car door, and having both wake up and begin howling
-Having Charlie inform me as we are quite literally on our way out the door that he "did a ginormous poop in his pants" and do I want to feel it? Bless his little heart. He's pretty great at this whole "big boy" thing, but being sick has really thrown the little bud for a loop.We had three accidents in the car in one evening. Which led to me in the Dickey's restroom trying to change his wet clothes, barefoot Stella standing on the bathroom floor at Dickeys and hauling clothes drenched in pee out of the restaurant in my purse. And no, I'm not crazy enough to take sick kids to dinner, we just needed the potty.
-trying to comfort a sick child who blatantly refuses anything that might make him feel a little bit better (ie medicine, blowing his nose, sleeping, ointment on his raw nose)
-realizing that you actually just spent 8 minutes trying to argue logical points with a deliriously tired three-year-old

Just so I have this little tidbit for posterity: Charlie HATES having a runny nose. He also refuses to wipe it himself when he is sick. Every time, his nose even hints at running, he starts this whine, "EHHHH, EHHHHH, EHHHHH, EHHHH" and pointing frantically at his nose. He will go so far as to climb over a box of tissues, a towel, and a roll of toilet paper to find me wherever I am, (or to smack me as many times as needs be to wake me up) all so that I can wipe his nose. Also, he is a harsh wiping critic. Motherhood is thankless and so far from glamorous.