Let me tell you a story

I'm going to tell you a story.  It's a story about a girl named Bethina.  Bethina Lewisina.  It's not me.  It's another girl whose name is Bethina.

Bethina had a tough morning.  It all started last night when her son, Jacksuma {who is two and built like a tank}, started having stomach pains.  He was very fussy and very unhappy, and cried and cried and cried late into the night.  Her other son, Naterama, who is only five weeks old, is in a growth spurt and wants to eat incessantly, which is hard on Bethina, who would rather sleep incessantly.  Between Naterama and Jacksuma, Bethina and her husband, Billman, didn't get much sleep.  In fact, they feel like the walking dead {cue: Thriller video}.

Jacksuma finally felt better this morning around 6:30, when it was announced by a very excited five-year-old named Ellackadoodle that "MOM!!!  Jacksuma THREW UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  After the night she and Billman had had, it may have been enough to make Bethina cry a little. 

It was now 6:30, and the kids were wide awake.  She was supposed to have at least another hour of sleep!  Wait.  Why did she think she would get that?  She hadn't gotten it in weeks, but a girl can dream, can't she?  She got up and began the day. 

In order to change Jacksuma's sheets, Bethina stuck him in the bath.  He had no toys to play with because he had gone poopoo in the bath the day before and she had dumped the yucky toys in the sink and promptly forgot about them while she cleaned out the tub .  Jacksuma was content to play with two cups, so Bethina went to change the sheets.  While taking off the bottom sheet, she heard, "Mama, I go peepee!" from a very enthusiastic Jacksuma. 

Seriously. 

Now, keep in mind that while Jacksuma was getting his first and second baths of the day, Naterama, who is not normally terribly demanding, was crying every 10.5 minutes to be fed.  Or changed.  Or comforted.  Or just to see Bethina's face, which is apparently soothing even when it holds a manic expression.  Ellackadoodle, however, was playing quietly in her room.  That should have been a warning.  Ellackadoodle does not do anything quietly.  When Bethina went in to check on her and get clothes for Jacksuma, she discovered that Ellackadoodle, who is FIVE, had drawn a picture. It was over two feet long.  She drew it in black crayon.  She drew it on the carpet.

Bethina just stared.  She pulled herself together, and, realizing she was too upset to be disciplining the child at the moment, she murmured something about dealing with this when her father got home and went back to Jacksuma.

Bethina put a diaper on Jacksuma, who promptly filled it completely and fragrantly.  It was so bad that she had to double bag it and take it outside to the garage, but the garbage was out by the curb, so she left it on the garage steps to deal with when she brought the can back in.

She decided that what she needed was to get out and clear her head {as much as she could with three kids in tow}, so she put the kids in the car and backed out of the garage.  As she rolled back, she heard a loud POP! and thought for a second that she had a flat tire, but as she continued back, she saw that the grocery bag-encased diaper of mammoth proportions, which must have been kicked off the steps by a kid on his way to the car, had rolled under the front passenger tire where the van had run over it.  Think of how bad that could be.  Just think of it. 

It was. 

It was that bad.  Maybe worse. 

All of this before lunch. 

And as she sat there in the driveway surveying the carnage, Bethina started to laugh.  She couldn't help it.  It was a slightly deranged laugh, bordering on hysterical, but she pulled it together enough to tell me about it.

Because this is a story about Bethina.  Not me.