The Fast and The Furious

You know those periods of life when time is moving at warp speed?

We are currently living in one around these parts.

You know those times in life when luck just does not seem to be in your side a lot of the time?

Yeah, it kind of feels like we are living there, too.

Wow.

Life is crazy right now.

We arrived home at 12:30 this morning from what was 11 days out west for the girls and I and, of course, only a quick 4 for Ryan.

We enjoyed Easter egg hunts, 12 hour long cheer extravaganzas, bridal showers, lost car seats, a few (too many) two-year-old meltdowns, temple visits, high school baseball Hall of Fame ceremonies, weddings, Bear Lake weekends with the "new fam", introductions to sweet baby boys, the half hour from hell, the news that a sweet new babe will be joining the Geddes/Hansen/Short clan!!!, and we topped that all off with our ride home from the airport forgetting about us last night (Love you, Kev!)

Whew.

I was a little extra emotional leaving this time around.

I think a lot of it has to do with everything waiting for me to do here at home (i.e. packing one apartment while trying to find another to live in across the country), but part of it was the fact that last night's flight was my last to Ohio.  Did you get that?  My last flight home.

Ugh, these next seven weeks (yes, seven) are going to be so bittersweet.

I must admit I am feeling a little overwhelmed at how behind I am on this here little blog.

I know it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things, but not only is it my little personal outlet, it is also our one and only family record.

There is lots to write about and remember: our cruise (remember how we went on that? Me either.), our big move to Montana, Easter, the wedding, Ryan's induction into Logan High's Baseball Hall of Fame.

We'll get there eventually.

But for now I want to leave you with the details from just one half hour of our lives this last week.

Actually I think everything happened in closer to twenty minutes, but I think it sums up nicely the way things seem to be going these days.

Last Wednesday we were spending the evening at the Palmer's finishing up last minute wedding details and enjoying the chaos that comes along with it.

Stella was sitting at the counter eating some dinner, but instead of sitting in her high chair seat she was sitting like a big girl on one of the swinging bar stools, a place that I knew would lead to disaster, but I decided to avoid the fight and let her sit their under supervision anyways.

Well, after adjusting and readjusting her five times to prevent the inevitable she finally started to fall, face first, towards the hardwood floor.

By this time I was now holding Miss Eliza so as I made my best efforts to stop Stella's face from slamming into the floor I in turn slammed Eliza's little baby head into the edge of the counter.

Cue screaming.

Stella screaming, Eliza screaming, and maybe I was screaming?  I can't be certain at this point.

I looked down to see quite the indentation on top of my sweet baby girl's head and just thanked my lucky stars that it wasn't split open and gushing blood.

Thankfully I wasn't alone when all of this was happening and had a few good people helping me try and calm down the kiddos.

In an effort to get Eliza to subside the most heartbreaking, terrible cry known to man I decided to make her a bottle.

It was time to open a new can of formula and as I pulled back the seal disgusting formula powder explodes all over my face and in my eye.

I quickly swipe my formula covered contact lens out of it's place and hurry to finish making the bottle, half blind due to my lack of eyesight and slightly gagging due to the sticky powder covering my body.

After handing the bottle off to Nana T I head downstairs and clean myself up, just in time for Uncle Taylor to bring a now calm Stella down to watch a show.

The next thing I know Stella is tripping over a toy and landing cheek first into the coffee table.

More crying ensues and I am ready to go lock myself and my children in a room for the remainder of the night to prevent any further damage.

The fact that it is now 5:30 pm and Stella has had no nap is not helping the matter so I decide it is time to put on some comfy clothes and relax a bit.

As I am changing diapers, pulling off shirts, and moving Stella all about in an effort to get her dressed I hear the awful sound that accompanies someone who is about to loose their lunch.

My hand immediately moves to her mouth and immediately both it and her face are covered in vomit.

I grab some extra clothes and head upstairs where I inform the family not to judge me if I start crying very, very soon.

Well, somehow I kept the tears in, cleaned up the poor, puke-covered girl and the rest of the night went much better.

Sure, Eliza sat with an ice-pack on her head for forty-five minutes straight without making any efforts to remove it and Stella had a nice bruise on her cheek for all of the wedding festivities, but such is life.

Being a mother is quite the adventure some days.