Run for your life!!!

I feel like I'm approaching Monday after running a marathon and battling monsters for my life. This is one of those weekends where I need a friend to lay down covering fire as I slide in the mud to safety. It was bad. Real bad.

It started Friday night when Dog tried to eat the neighbor. You've all met Dog by now, he's 130 pounds of pure-lovin' mastiffness. He's a Boerboel and a rescue dog and really he isn't likely to eat you unless he thinks you're attacking. Like, say, when you run down the street in front of our house with a screaming baby. At which point Dog thinks you're attacking the baby.

And then Dog attacks.

Luckily for my neighbor I had a good hold on Dog's leash and he wasn't able to do more than jump, paw the ground, bark, and make me lose my balance enough that I twisted my ankle. Because I'm that kind of talented (and our yard has lots of random holes). Once Dog was calm I convinced the neighbor to stop. Dog checked the kids out, assured himself that the neighbor wasn't stealing someone from our house, and the evening passed in a haze of ibprofen and shouting as I tried to corral kids while keeping my leg elevated.

Saturday was more elevated legs, Miss Pink's friend coming over "for an hour" that turned into six, and then the baby (who is actually 15 months now) started projectile vomiting. Saturday bled into Sunday under a rain of bile (aren't glad you're reading this and not actually living through it),  and by the time I stumbled out of bed, sleep deprived and incoherent I had learned to loath the weekend. I mean... come on!

All that in one weekend? While I'm on deadline and hubby is gone? REALLY? Doesn't it seem like jumping-the-shark just a little bit? Just a teensy-tinsy bit unrealistic? If I put this in a book any good editor would have told me to pull some of that nonsense out because I was going to break that character.

Hopefully Monday will bring healthy kids, and ankle that's not too swollen to stand, and a lack of drama. Also sleep. Sleep would be good.