Monday, Monday

My husband is a pastor. So, he takes off Mondays. I think he feels guilty about taking a day off when I don't ever have a day off, so between naps, he tries to do things to help me. Before he started his Superdad/Superhusband Day, he decided to go have a nice quiet breakfast in a restaurant and read.

Here at the homefront, the phone rings and a crying, hysterical voice says, "I'm trying to reach Pastor. This is C____ W_________. J_______ just had a heart attack and they are taking him to the hospital." I tell her all right, I'll give him the message. Call his cell phone. No answer. Call the restaurant and the woman checked with every solitary man there ("does he have an earring?" Uh, no!). He wasn't there. He arrived home shortly and I gave him the message and off he went.

So, he will not be taking YoungestBoy to play at the park and hit some balls.
He will not be taking Babygirl for a walk.
He probably will not be mailing that package for me at the post office.

And this day just keeps getting stranger. I ran YoungestBoy some bathwater and when I returned downstairs, I found Babygirl asleep on the floor. At 11 a.m. Then I went into the boys' room to sweep and when I returned to the family room, DaycareKid was all curled up facing Babygirl. Asleep.

They did not have lunch yet. Their naptime isn't until 1 p.m.

Apparently, today is a test of my flexibility. I may not be able to do a backbend anymore, but I sure can swing with the punches!