Take Wednesday for example

Our house has been chaos this week.

After finally falling asleep with Benjamin on Wednesday morning, Miriam crawled into bed with us (while Andrew was with Rachel at the busstop). The odd thing was, she was fully clothed. That's odd because getting her out of her pyjamas is like pulling teeth.

"Why do you have clothes on?" I asked.

"Because...it's morning. You just put your clothes on in the morning, Mom," she said matter-of-factly.

She had me there. That is what you do in the morning and it's what I've been suggesting she do in the mornings for a long time. I decided she was just finally following my advice and let is go.

Because we're running on no sleep and are all sick over here I crawled stealthily out of bed, careful to not wake Benjamin, and turned on a show for Miriam (Andrew left for class after Rachel's bus came) before returning for bed to sleep, or at least lie down for a while longer. I must have drifted off because the next thing I knew, Miriam's in our room again, this time holding her favourite blanket, all balled up in her arms.

"What should I do with my silky blankey?" she asked. "It's dirty."

"You should put it in the laundry," I told her. "I'll wash it today so you can have it back tonight. But what's on it? How did it get dirty?"

"Because it just is, Mom" she explained to me in the same patronizing tone she'd adopted earlier. "Sometimes things get dirty."

"But how did it get dirty?" I pressed.

"It just got some dirty stuff on it."

I only found out what it was when I went into her room to collect the laundry, which was wet, and smelled of urine.

"Did you wet the bed?" I asked over and over until she stopped denying and answered that she had.

"Okay. I juuuust pee-peed in my bed because I couldn't make it to the toilet."

"But why couldn't you?" I asked.

"Because. People can't always just use the toilet, you know."

Fabulous. And honest. But wouldn't it be great if they could always use a toilet of sorts. I know I'd appreciate that.

So we washed her sheets and I considered stripping Rachel's bed as well but thought better of it. Washing sheets is always bad karma for our house so I only ever wash them when they need it (which means, if things are going well, that our sheets will go several weeks between washings).

Late on Wednesday, when I was up with a screaming Benjamin, Rachel stumbled out of her room gasping for air and dripping vomit all over creation. Andrew ushered her into the shower while I did something with Benjamin so that I could help clean up the throw up. I can't even remember what. He'd been screaming so loudly that we'd hardly even heard Rachel coughing (which is why she threw up (because she was coughing, not because we couldn't hear her)) and in spite of having a throw up bowl in her bed (like she usually does) she just threw up all over the place (*sigh*).

Fortunately, she didn't drip onto Miriam's bed this time so Miriam got to sleep through the whole linen-changing ordeal. It took two loads to wash everything (comforter, pillow cases, sheets, dolls, blankets, and so forth) and I'm only grateful that I had Rachel make her bed that afternoon otherwise it would have been a lot worse (she threw a bunch of her stuffed animals on the floor before making her bed and so those got put in the toy box instead of back in her bed, which meant they didn't get thrown up on).

I felt so vindicated in my decision to not wash Rachel's sheets because if there's anything I hate worse than washing sheets it's washing sheets...and then washing them again the very same day!

And...Miriam wet the bed a second time this week. I can't remember which day (was it Friday?). I do know that Andrew washed the sheets (and the diapers and did three loads of clothes) because I almost started crying when she came into our bedroom fully dressed, bright and early in the morning (as in before our alarm had even gone off).

"This is not what I need!" I said, tears filling my eyes. "I can't do it! I can't not sleep and wash the diapers and do the regular laundry and wash the sheets three times in one week. I can't!"

"I'll do it," Andrew offered, getting out of bed.

And that's why I love Spring Break.

And also my husband.