Help me out...

First of all, I know that I'm not the only one that deals with this, and second of all, I know that

there are many who deal with it times 4, 5, 6, 7... but, seriously, how do people have more than one kid? This isn't rhetorical. How. do. you. do. it? (I remember once saying I hated it when people put periods in between words ina sentence to make the reader pause for effect... I need the effect right now). I will freely admit that I have it much, much easier than most because I have 10 years between kids and the 10-year-old is a pretty darn good kid. So, I repeat how do you do it?

The other night Tom was gone for the evening, I was making dinner, baby was fussy because it was evening, and Addison got a sudden and intense headache that made him start throwing up. I was making a sauce on the stove top, the baby was grunting and snorting on the way to a full blown fit, and Addison was writhing on his bed that I still hadn't gotten around to putting sheets on. Then, it all came to a head... Baby screaming, Addison puking, sauce boiling over. Where to first? I will tell you right now, I am a slow responder sometimes. I want to think out the most effective and useful response to most things and this situation was no different, except for the fact that everything needed immediate attention. So, my little brain started going through the different tactics I could take...

1. Turn off the stove, leave the mess, take care of Addison (his need seemed most pressing), and leave the baby to scream
2. Turn off the stove, make the baby stop screaming, then see to Addison with peace and more focused attention
3. Turn off the stove, clean up the mess, make the baby stop screaming, see to Addison with total and complete attention that isn't thinking about a baby screaming OR a mess in the kitchen

I honestly stood in my kitchen with a spoon in my hand for a full minute deciding what to do and making each situation worse. There was a moment where (I promise this happened on my way to helping Addison) I thought, "I should go get the hidden stash of fun size candy bars I just bought for Trick-or-Treat candy because I deserve it right now," but you'll be happy to know I didn't. I chose to see to Addison first and forgot to turn off the stove even though it was part of all 3 plans. I ran to the bedroom where he had entirely missed the bowl I placed there when he told me he MIGHT throw up. Now, he had thrown up all over his sheetless bed, bedskirt, floor, etc. I told him to get up and get in the shower (after I made sure he was done and ok, don't worry), and proceeded to wonder about which to attend to next. Get the baby or clean up the mess. Mess! Oh no! I forgot about the kitchen mess. I ran to the kitchen in time to see the sauce boiling over with volcanic ferocity. Noooowww, I turned off the stove (genius, I know). Baby still screaming. I went and checked on Addison who was making his way to the shower, but threw up again, this time almost in the toilet. He got in the shower. What if he had been a toddler?? At least my 10-year-old can get himself into the shower, which he later decided to turn into a bath and which I greatly appreciated because it kept him feeling ok for about 20 minutes). My next step was to STOP THE SCREAMING. I figured both messes would be easier to clean up once the SCREAMING STOPPED. Baby just wanted to be held, so I picked him up (thinking again about the fun size candy bars) and one-handedly cleaned up the kitchen. I figured I could do that job with a baby in one hand. The vomit would have to wait. Kitchen got clean. Sat down to feed the baby. Addison didn't want to eat, which was a good thing because dinner was still partially on the ceiling.

It was 5:00. Baby decided he would be happy in the Bumbo seat (I love that thing). I cleaned up the throwup bedroom and Addison laid down and fell asleep. I raided the fun size candy bars and really wanted a coke. I thought about all of the people I could possibly call and ask to bring me a coke. Then I thought of trying to explain why I so desperately needed said coke and found that my story was probably not even close to as good as the 25 that they had up their sleeves and felt embarrassed. Instead, I decided to order a pizza and have a coke delivered to me! Smart, right??

Seven o'clock rolled around and I was worried now that the sudden headache and throwing up indicated a severe neurological problem and that Addison was certainly slipping into unconciousness (and talking to my worried mom on the phone didn't help... The 2 of us can really worry a situation into something scary!). I woke Addison up. He was fine. He did, however, when I asked him if he wanted to eat, say "Sure. Just bring me my bag and my inventory."

The pizza was delivered. I had Addison answer the door and pay for the pizza and, more importantly, my coke. I got out the paper plates and cups, and Addison came walking into the kitchen with a 2 liter of... PEPSI!!! This is not an ok substitute! When the waiter asks me if Pepsi is ok when I order Coke, I say, "I'll have water." I cried a little then for the first and only time that night. Seriously... over the coke.

The night went on as expected. A few more puking episodes, baby didn't want to sleep, nightmares, etc. Tom came home at about midnight, I think. I was so tired I didn't look at the clock.

I really want to know, though, how do people have babies and toddlers and manage their lives? I really feel like I can barely keep up. I am always tired. My house is never clean enough. Homework is often forgotten. Dinner responsibility is often passed to my husband and dishes are ALWAYS passed to him, and even in that I know I'm lucky! I find myself in church looking at young families and staring... They must know some magic secret.

Until someone is willing to share the magic, I'll keep muddling through. Forgive me if my son is wearing clothes that don't match and my baby only has on one sock. Please understand if I have to abandon my cart half full of groceries and leave the store because I really have no idea what is wrong with the baby and, I promise, if I did, I would make him stop screaming. And if I start crying when my waiter asks if Pepsi is ok, just ignore me... I'll be ok in 18 years.