My psychiatrist changed some of my meds, and as a result I have been more than a slightly bit on edge the last two days. I am about as high strung as a tiny, yappy Poodle.
When Rob got home from work today I had him bathe Cam and get her ready for bed. My nerves having been stretched thin, I used the break from my most precious child to do some housework that didn't involve me struggling to move a foot without a 20 pound incensed toddler clutched to my leg. I was rushing, trying to get a good vacuuming done and a good swab of the floors. I had my iPod turned way up, but could still hear Cam cranking up her whine, and my nerves started twitching some more. Rob finally clothed our baby beast, and moved her up to her room to put her to sleep. I was just starting to get my delicious tacos started when Rob reappeared, looking grim.
I am going to pay hell for what I am about to say. Cam is a fabulous sleeper. She goes down with NO PROBLEM. Ever since she was six months old, and we had a battle of the wills that lasted a week, I have never had a problem getting her to sleep ( I am fully bent over for the universe to teach me a lesson now). So when Rob reappeared, and said "this ought to be fun....I'll give her ten minutes" as he stared at the monitor, I started getting really twitchy. It kills me to hear Cam scream from her crib, because she never does it unless something is wrong. After a few minutes I gave Rob the option of sitting on his ass, or finishing the tacos. He chose tacos, because my man loves to cook...and eat. Because I can never just make a trip up the stairs with empty hands, even when my precious is screaming bloody murder, I grabbed a basket of laundry and started running up the steps. As I got to the top of the stairs, I readjusted my load to my hip, swung the baby gate open, and in the process knocked over the huge fucking thing of liquid Tide. You know, the "economy" size from Sam's Club. The thing hit the deck, and the cap exploded off.
I stood there watching blue Tide rush out, all over the carpet. Nerves completely tweaked, and Cam screaming EVEN LOUDER, I stood there like an idiot watching a very full bottle completely empty itself on the floor. Hearing me scream "OH FUCK!", Rob doesn't even come to the bottom of the stairs, he just yells "are you hurt....??". Nope. But at that moment I had to decide: should I tend my aggrieved child, and thus let Rob clean up the mess...OR...should I send Rob in to deal with Cam? I chose to go to Cam.
Now, it's not only a joke in our family just how inept Rob is at ANYTHING related to cleaning, it is a well and true FACT. We would live in fetid squalor if something happened to me. There is not a doubt in my mind. I am also a huge clean freak. So choosing Cam over cleaning MUST speak to my love of that baby. As Rob stood staring at the mess, wide-eyed, I made some hasty comment about getting the wet/dry vac. I then retreated behind Cam's door.
Poor Campbell was soaked in sweat, from what was a very exhaustive three minutes of unfettered screaming. She immediately calmed when I picked her up, and we plopped down into our comfy chair to re-start the going to bed process. For the next 15 minutes as I tried to sing along to Cam's iPod, I could hear Rob muttering, cussing like a sailor, and a whole lot of banging going on. It was driving me insane not knowing what was literally going on right outside the door. I put Cam in her crib, and she flopped over on her belly and cuddled up under her white noise machine and was done.
When I exited her room I found my darling husband on hands and knees vigorously trying to get the wet vac to do it's thing. Scattered around him were about 10 of my GOOD dish towels; a watering can (yes, for indoor plants), and the wet vac. Now, the Tide all pooled in one spot, but now I had about 5 or so spots just as big in different areas of the hallway. When he opened up the vac to show me why it was leaking, he realized the filter for the dry vac was still on it. Which explained why water had been shooting out of the sides of the vac, but didn't explain the extra blue puddles. The suction on that wet vac is unbelievable, but is no match for that damn Tide. After about 30 minutes of me giving it my best, that carpet was still all slimy (even after I figured out the method behind the madness of the watering can). It was at that point that Rob came to tell me tacos were finished. I abandoned the wet vac, and have been too afraid to go back up there to assess the damage.
The house reeks of Tide, a smell I used to like.