Kids in bath 

Just a Typical Day Around Here

February 20, 1970
The day has not been a glorious one. The morning was full of fights, yelling, etc., between Ned and me. The excitement also included a frantic 5 minutes. Paul was in the garbage while I was on the phone soliciting merchandise for the nursery school auction. When I hung up, I started to get him dressed and had unpinned one half of his diaper while I suddenly became aware of the fact that he was bleeding profusely from his little finger. I removed his diaper and began to rush him into the bathroom to the sink when I was confronted with a messy BM. There I was, Paul at arm's length, bleeding at one end and brown at the other, wondering which end to wash first, when Ned came in clutching himself yelling, "I have to go potty!" Decisions decisions! I settled for rubbing Paul's bottom with a rag at the same time I was holding his finger under the faucet and shouting encouragement to Ned for "holding it." Somehow it all came out right. Paul didn't bleed to death, Ned "held it" long enough to get Paul cleaned up, and my bathroom managed to avoid contact with Paul's messy bottom.

I discovered, in addition, that I had no clean underwear and had to wash a pair of pants and stick them in with a load of diapers in the dryer. As a result, we didn't leave for Tiny Tots until 9:30 or so. I couldn't find my shoes and spent 5 minutes searching the house while Ned stood outside screaming because he couldn't climb into the car. I finally found the shoes hidden behind our bedroom door, threw Ned into the car, and we were off to take Jeri to nursery school.

 Ned felt bad at not being able to go into Tiny Tots and the day was so beautiful (and I was feeling bad about our morning thus far) that I decided to take him and Paul to Montclair Park for an hour or so. That was fun, with the only mishap (other than Ned wading into the lake) was that I lost the heel of my shoe somewhere en route and now need a new pair of shoes.

 Home for lunch, pick up Jeri, dessert, naps. So far so good. I doze off somewhere between The Edge of Night and Mike Douglas while my wash tumbles in the dryer. Suddenly I awake covered with crying children and am faintly aware that the dryer seems to have been running an exceptionally long time. I get up to check it and find that the timer has not moved, the clothes are still wet, and there is no heat. I check the filter, find it full, clean it out, start the dryer again, and get no response. It's dead. Fortunately the diapers are dry, but my underwear is still wet and the sun is sinking too fast to hang things out. I call Walt and tell him to pick up our handy dandy repair guide and prepare for surgery this evening, then make arrangements with Char to borrow her dryer tonight and run and errand for her at Wards while I get my shoes.

After the dryer died, Ned poured sugar all over the kitchen table, Paul did his usual "thing" with the fireplace (playing with the ashes, and pouring them over his head) and when I got out the vacuum to clean it up, he pulled out the plug and began sucking on it. Jeri and Ned decided to sail a boat in the sink and Ned's shirtsleeves are now two shades of gold--the wet half and the dry half. And at the moment there is a full scale war between Jeri and Ned being waged around Paul, who will probably be knocked over at any moment. He's not faring too well, since he was just hit in the head with a deer 15 minutes ago.

Just a typical day at the Sykeses. Oh yes, Jeri also woke up from her nap having wet the bed--ours.

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