We'll file this into the "times I fell down" category

I'm back from this weekend's round of sitting on babies. Sorry I've been MIA for a while. Between YL, sitting on babies, and just life in general, I haven't had a night to myself since mid-January. My DVR can't handle much more. Seriously. It's almost full, and I have two weeks worth of episodes of several shows to watch.

And we're not even going to disucss the Christmas wreath that is still hanging on my front door.

Instead, let's talk about the weekend with my precious babies. Ya'll... they could be mine. We get into the car to ride home from school, and two of the three start reading for the less than one mile trip home. And at lunch on Saturday, Big Brother asks for a slip of paper so he could make a list-no, a schedule complete with times- of our plans for the weekend. My heart was a flutter. (Don't worry. He's still a 4th grade boy. He lost the list before we even left the table.)

Let's also talk about a few incidents of the weekend. The first: getting to the car from school. The mom preferred that I drive her tricked out, fully loaded, XM radio and back-up camera Suburban instead of my little SUV. Um, okay. No prob. She left the keys with the front office on her way out of town.

So, after school, I get the kids and we go to my car and get my suitcase, and head out into the parking lot to find her car, holding out the key fob and pushing the lock button, hoping to see which car would honk to alert me of its presence.

Nothing.

And then, after I've led three children dragging my suitcase and other such stuff through the parking lot, I realize that she probably just left me the keys and not the actual car. Sorry kids, I promise your mother hasn't left you with an idiot.

Oh, but she has, now hasn't she?

These loveys live in a most gorgeous house with more bells and whistles than a space shuttle. Everything is either plush carpet or sleek granite that I am sure was imported from some monastary in the Alps or something.

Here's a little side note: when I sit on babies, and they go to bed at 8:30pm on a weekend, I do not stay up late and have some alone time. I go to bed at 8:31.

So when the phone rings at 9:15, I've been asleep for a few minutes. And, I'm pretty sure it's their mom, so I hop out of bed and scurry into the kitchen because I did not have the where with all to take the phone to bed with me.

And we all know what happens when I scurry anywhere. Especially scurrying from the plush carpet onto the sleek Alp-ish tile.

Ya'll. I didn't just fall down.
I faceplanted.
Hard.

I'm surprised the sound of my palms hitting the floor with a loud SPLAT didn't wake the wee children. My knees hit pretty hard as well, which left the mirror-image bruises. And I'm pretty sure I pulled a muscle.

And people regularly trust me with their children.
Go figure.