I'm not Irish, but from what I understand (and I'm probably totally wrong as usual) is that on St. Patrick's Day you are supposed to have the luck of the Irish. I need it badly. Well let me take that back. If the Irish have good luck then I need it. They can keep their bad luck because lately I've had enough of it. Let me just give you a little recap of how the past few days have been around here.
On Thursday as I mentioned in my last post Kylie was sick. She only puked two or three times so I thought everything was okay. On Friday I kept her home from school just to be safe and also because she was still feeling lethargic. This presented a slight problem for me. See I have been desperately trying all year long to get a speech evaluation done for Sophie and have been getting the run around. Last Friday when I went for our scheduled appointment I was told to come back this Friday because the speech pathologist couldn't do it that day for some reason. I was looking forward to getting her in there and tested, but did not want to bring Kylie with me while she was feeling bad. Luckily my mom offered to come over and watch her. This is right around the point things began to go oh so wrong for me.
When Kylie woke up I decided to make her some breakfast. I also decided I would get ready while her breakfast was cooking. Not a good idea. The smoke alarm ended up going off. Our smoke alarm is hard wired and it vibrated so much that it fell off the wall. Great. Ruined breakfast and screwed up the smoke detector. I get Sophie ready and we head to the school. I get her out of the car and while we're in the office waiting for our meeting I notice something odd about my purse. I just bought a Michael Kors Hamilton bag a few weeks ago. I've been wanting one for ages and finally found one on sale and splurged. See the little lock on the front?
Mine is not longer there. Apparently it fell of between my getting in the car at home and getting out at school and walking into the office. Should be easy to find right? Of course not. That baby is gone and as far as I can tell you can't buy a replacement. Nice. Finally meet with the speech pathologist, fill out more paperwork than what I filled out when I bought my house and she says "okay, I'll see you next week for Sophie's evaluation." Huh? Apparently she couldn't do it as scheduled because she had something else to do. Then later that night Sophie throws up. Again, and again and again. A few hours later Audrey starts. So all Friday night, Saturday day and Saturday night I'm taking care of sick people. I was seriously near tears from lack of sleep (everytime I would start to dose off one of them would get sick again) and so looking forward to having my husband home on Sunday to help. Sunday morning he offers to run to the store for me since I've been having to put it off for so long at this point. He leaves and is gone for less than ten minutes when he walks back in the front door. His tire on his car went flat so he ended up spending hours getting a new one. Finally get the tire situation taken care of, the girls seem to be doing okay and I go to bed happy. Only to wake up during the middle of the night sick as a dog. So now I am hoping, praying, and crossing my fingers that things will turn around because I'm tired of this crummy luck.