Here I go again on my own

Going down the only road I've ever know-own, like a drifter I was borrrrn to walk alone....

Sorry, got a little carried away. I am well aware that I haven't even touched on the subject of Christmas yet, and I'll get there, probably Monday. There's just too much to write and I'm too distracted here at home. Right now Caliana is sitting on the side of the couch throwing sunglasses and Heely plugs at me. I really should be cleaning and doing some laundry, but hey, I have ALLLLL weekend for that.

To explain the title of this post, Patrick has left me.

For three whole days.

He's in Sacramento painting, and scraping tar and doing other such fun things while I'm stuck here at home with the kids. I had a bit of time being a single parent, between leaving Emily and Damien's dad and getting married to Patrick and I can tell you, I am NOT enjoying the flashback. Especially with a third psycho, I mean child in the mix.
Yesterday started out well. I cleaned up the Christmas mess. At least the kitchen Christmas mess, then went to the park, took Emily to see Twilight, made dinner and watched a movie with the kiddos.

*WARNING* If you don't have kids and think you might want them someday, you might want to stop reading now. Just saying.

Nighttime is when things started to fall apart. I got Caliana in her jammies, set her up in my bed with a movie and went downstairs to watch Wall-E with E and D. No more than 15 minutes had past and I was falling asleep on the couch. I decided to just go on up to bed and let the kids fall asleep where they were. They're on vacation from school, who needs bedtime. I fell right to sleep and woke up to a very loud toddler, a very naked toddler, a very stinky toddler yelling in my face.

"MOMMY, I POO POO'S!! MOMMY!!"

Oh, ick! She also decided to remove her pajamas and the offending diaper and crawl back up on the bed, so now I had a nice big poop splotch on my bed, a nasty diaper on my floor, and a poop covered monkey trying to jump on me.

That woke me up pretty quickly. I plopped her down on the floor.

"DON'T MOVE CALI! DON'T SIT DOWN!"

Then I went on a frantic midnight search for the diaper wipes. After two full laps around the house, I still didn't find them. This is the irony of parenthood. The one time the poop is in a state of urgency, the wipies will decide to take a vacation. Patrick probably took them with him just for the laugh. I still haven't found them.

Anyways, we resolved the problem with a bath, a washcloth, and a bedding change. I sure hope the next two days fly by.