It has been a most eventful weekend. John was much better and certainly well enough to visit FF this weekend, so I gave him a couple of packs of DayQuil and allowed him to go. He was better, so I thought everything was cool.

Larry called me early Friday afternoon and when I hung up I noticed that Trent was curled up in the recliner looking sleepy. As I got closer I noticed that he wasn't just sleepy looking, he was deathly pale.

Wait...he looks...sick.

I picked him up and he let out this huge barky burp, the kind people make when they're about to throw up.

"Oh n-"

Man, oh man.

He power barfed all over himself, me and the living room carpet. There was so much of it he needed a bath - like, immediately. Just a little wipedown until I got the carpet cleaned was not going to do that job. I called John into the living room and asked him tp out Zoe in the playpen while I tended to Trent. He got most of the way down the hallway when the stench hit him.

Then he saw the mess.

"Holy crap!"

Indeed.

I got the mess cleaned up, Trent settled in for a nap and all was well. He seemed much better when he woke up and we figured it was just an upset tummy from something he ate.

I was feeling pretty good and getting things done until -

I locked my stupid frikking ass out of the house. Actually, I'm not sure if I forgot to leave the door unlocked or if Trent locked it when I went out to get the mail but either way the damned door wouldn't budge and after about twenty minutes I became hysterical. I could see Trent in the kitchen climbing up on the counters. He played with the microwave but couldn't get it started, raided the cabinets and turned on the toaster oven. That scared the hell out of me. If he got burned or fell and got hurt I couldn't help him. After twenty minutes of trying to get Trent to unlock the door and trying to find something to pick the lock with, I got desperate and started knocking on my neighbor's doors. One of them was home and let me use his phone, but wouldn't you know it - my mom wasn't home and she had her god damned cell phone turned off. She keeps it turned off all of the time. I don't know why she even carries the damn thing.

Anyway, I was out there for about an hour and fifteen minutes when I finally got in touch with my mother, who came home and opened the door with the spare key. By then I was half frozen, soaking wet with rain and snow, my coat and jeans were a mess from trying to climb up the celler doors to see into the kitchen then having to slide back down and I was the most hysterical I have ever been in my life. I could see Trent getting into things but all I could do was bang on the window and yell "no no!" at him. He didn't even make an effort to turn the doorknob until he saw me standing outside with our neighbor. Then I guess he figured mommy needed help. Until then he was content to sit on the counters and do whatever the hell he wanted, only jumping down every once in awhile to wiggle the lock button on the doorknob.

My mom took pity on me and insisted on staying with the kids (by then Zoe had awakened from her nap and was standing up in her crib jumping up and down and yelling for attention), so that I could take a warm shower.

Never in my life have I felt so hysterical, helpless and stupid.

All I wanted was the frikkin' mail.

Saturday would have been pretty uneventful except that Trent has been running a high fever and calling the pediatrician's office was only minimally comforting. They said that since he had just started to run a fever, an office visit would probably turn up nothing and we need to wait it out. If he was still feverish in a few days and had developed other symptoms, we'd need to bring him in. His fevers aren't as high, but he cries almost every waking moment, he's lethargic and very pale. He hasn't broken anything or tried to climb up on anything in two days so I know he feels awful.

If we don't see some dramatic improvement by tomorrow he's going to see the doctor.

It's been a very long weekend. Larry and I are both exhausted. Today he was in a terrible mood for most of the day. Sometimes his depression causes him to becaome anxious or aggravated for no easily discernible reason and he spends the day trying very hard not to bite our heads off. It takes a lot of effort for him to even be civil when he feels like that. I tend to feel as if it's my fault for doing something to get on his nerves, but that's just years of programming messing with me. I know I didn't do anything. He felt better later, and I'm really glad, not just for him but also because the nasty vibe I was getting was really making me uncomfortable.

In other news...

Three weeks before my birthday, my husband surprised me with a brand new Imac. I was sleeping when he came in so I didn't see him take it to our room until I went in there to get my clothes for my shower. I just stood there for about twenty seconds like a ridiculous dork trying to process what I was seeing.

Then I exploded with happiness.

I've been playing with it and it is really the coolest thing ever. It's so different from using Mel, but I think once I get used to it, it won't be a big deal.

It quite literally made my whole weekend. And probably Monday too. :o)