What a Friday...

Friday my sweet sister Telima decided to come down from Sandy (about 50 minutes away) to take me to lunch as a belated birthday present.  Her children were out of school, and my three youngest were at home as well, so it was the two moms with six kids five and under.  (Telima's four-year-old son wasn't acting entirely himself, but we didn't think anything of it.)

We chose IHOP, because we figured they would be more...welcoming...to such a brood.

(Poor things.)

We were seated, and had a fairly longish wait until our waitress was able to come take our order.  In the meantime, the four older children had unwrapped all the utensils, colored on the paper placemats, and dropped numerous items.  Jay was playing on his mother's iPod, and Yummy was playing with a little toy.  Seconds after the waitress left, it happened.

Jay threw up.

All over the iPod (fortunately well protected by a case), all over himself, all over the chair and all over the floor.

Well.

I hopped up and ran after the waitress, everyone in our general vicinity staring.  Apologizing profusely, I asked her to cancel our order, and hurried back to the table.  While poor Telima cleaned up as best she could, I herded the non-sick kiddos to the lobby.  They were surprisingly compliant, thankfully.  I wanted to leave a tip, but neither Telima nor I had any cash, and we hadn't bought any food!  The poor cashier couldn't figure it out.  I felt so bad about the mess and the time and everything, I eventually bought a five dollar gift card just so I could leave a five dollar tip.

So.  No lunch, and no hanging out with my Telima, because she went home right away with her poor kids.  Bummer, but what can you do?  That's life with kids.  (I sure hope you are feeling better, Jay!)

The rest of the day was fairly normal, if a little restrictive, because my poor Yummy has a dreadful cold.  She hadn't been sleeping well, and took an impromptu nap in my arms for several hours that afternoon.

That is, it was normal until about seven-thirty in the evening.  As Bradley and I lounged on our bed, and the children made forts on the stairs' landing...we heard a heavy object tumble down the stairs.  Nobody started crying, and we could hear all the kids, so we thought nothing of it.

Until Zee hollered, "Mommy!  Daddy!  Yum Yum threw a paint can down the stairs!  There's paint EVERYWHERE!"

Indeed there was.  Fortunately, the gallon-sized can of paint (previously unopened, white, outdoor latex paint) flew open at the bottom of the stairs, so the puddles and splashes were limited to the lowest two stairs, the carpet at the bottom, the quilts piled there from earlier, the baby gate that the kids were playing with, the linen closet doors, the towels and shelves in the linen closet, and various other miscellaneous objects.  Like Yum Yum herself.

Lucky for us, after thirty minutes of scrubbing, rinsing, soaking, rubbing, and discarding, most of the damage was only temporary.  Puddles of wet white paint can be removed from carpet surprisingly easily.  Ditto when it is on anything non-fabric.  And get this--I was SO distraught about my gorgeous star quilt that Eva made for us years ago, because it bore the brunt of the paint.  And even after we rinsed and rinsed it in the bathtub, it didn't look good.

But after four runs through the washing machine, it barely looks damaged at all!  The dark blue back is a little speckled, and one part of the red border as well, but other than that...I'm so relieved.

So:  the moral of this (too long) story:  Don't take a normally-active-and-busy-but-acting-suspiciously-quiet-and-docile nephew out to a restaurant, and don't leave a full can of white paint at the top of the stairs.  Even if it has never been opened.  Even if you are going to take it out to the shed "soon".  Just don't.