The Longest Day that Ever Was

Don't be deceived by how cute guinea hens look. Their noise overrides that.
Don’t be deceived by how cute guinea hens look. Their noise overrides that.

It all started at one o’clock this morning… when I should have been sleeping but instead was working. Not only am I battling a cold that has ravaged my lungs, but at eight months pregnant eight hours of sleep is a must if I want to survive the next day.

A little before two I turn off the light, only to awaken five hours later to the ear-piercing cackle of my guinea hens. If you’ve never heard a guinea hen, Google it, but be prepared to hit your mute button quickly. Now imagine being jarred awake by that sound. A little slice of hell for ya.

Sure enough, I forgot to lock the hens in their house last night, and I was paying the price. Apparently I wasn’t the only one. About ten minutes into my wake-up call I hear my two-year-old screaming in full tantrum mode. I get up to soothe him, and mid-soothe I hear the patter of my two girls. Greeeaaat. Now everyone was up and it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet, and my congestion and hacking cough were begging me for more sleep.

I manage to ease my sore throat slightly with some tea, then get the kids fed (most of which ended up on the floor) when I get a call that there’s a house showing in an hour. Not only am I exhausted and sick, but the house is a mess and the kids certainly weren’t in any mood to go out in public. But my desperation for a quick house sale sends me into overdrive cleaning and getting the kids out the door.

The next thing I know we’re at the park, about a 15-minute hike from the car, when a torrential downpour hits. I’m carrying the baby in one arm, wrestling the others to follow, waddling as fast as I can as my abs start cramping. I’m praying it’s not early labor, but whatever it was, it’s a painful reminder of how out of shape I am. We finally make it to the car, when I notice that the kids are covered in mud. I had just cleaned the car yesterday…was it okay for me to make them walk home? I figured CYS wouldn’t approve, so I used my stash of baby wipes to clean them up as much as possible then loaded them in. But noooo… they don’t want to go home, and they voice it the whole twenty-minute ride home.

When I arrive home, I find mud tracked all throughout the house from the showing. Seriously? They don’t know how to use a doormat that is specifically designed to wipe your muddy shoes on? Even my kids know how to clean their dirty feet.

I sigh heavily and lug the kids into the house, collapsing on the sofa, ready for a nap that I know will never come because I have a doctor’s appointment in an hour, carpets to clean now, filthy clothes to wash, diapers to change, meals to cook, and work to tackle.

By this point it’s barely eleven and the day has only begun… and so far it’s been the longest day that ever was. But somehow I know I’ll get through it in one piece, vowing to myself to go to bed early tonight so that I can do it all over again tomorrow. But tonight I won’t forget to put those damn guinea hens away!


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