I've got one hand in my pocket, and the other one is covered in vomit!

Let me begin by letting you know that this is the final weekend of the festival season, which means the final weekend of no Momma and solo Dad. But it's not that easy folks. No, this final weekend is our 12th round, our game 7, our Mount Ventoux stage. If you're not a sports fan what I'm saying is this is the hardest and most crucial. This weekend Gina is in Tucson, a quick 9 hour drive away. And rather then a Friday night through Sunday event, this is a Thursday morning through Monday. As tough as it is going to be on us, I know it will be even harder for Gina. But this blog isn't about her problems, it's about my problems! ;) So the biggest hurdle is the fact that 3 of the 5 days are work days for me. Fortunately Grandma and Great Yiayia are stepping in. The girls played at Great Yiayia's all day yesterday and I dropped them off there again this morning. They slept well through the night except when Karma went ballistic over a cat fight in our yard and woke everyone up at 3am. The girls went back to sleep just fine, but Karma got a time out (although I don't think a time out at 3am is much different then just going back to bed and sleeping). In the "time to be awake now" morning, Arianna woke up first so I gave her a bottle which she sucked down and Genevieve woke up shortly after. I threw some clothes on them and stuffed the diaper bag so we could run out of the house and I could get to work. As we're running toward the car I suddenly feel my entire right side get warm. I stop, look at Arianna and discover that she has thrown up all down my body. A little bit on her jacket, but mostly on mine, my pants and my arm. We are literally four steps from the car, and now I'm faced with the dilemma of what to do. My right hand is completely covered in vomit, my car keys. ... in my right pocket. I've got two babies with out shoes in either arm and I'm standing in a parking lot that sparkles in the morning sunlight from the shards of glass scattered about. I suck it up and slide my vomit covered hand into my pocket and pull out the keys. My hand emerges surprisingly clean as I then realize that means my pocket is now full of Arianna's breakfast. I then perform a juggling act that most circus' couldn't pull off and get the girls in to their seats while simultaneously sliding Arianna out of her puke jacket. I then run into the house, tear of my cloths and grab some new ones, and dress as I'm running back to the car. Thank god the rest of our complex is later risers or they would have gotten a nice morning show. Now that I'm at work I don't know what's worse a) looking and smelling like vomit or b) smelling like vomit but not having any evidence on you to blame it on. So that's my day so far (all 2 1/2 hours of it). Lot of daylight left. We'll see where it goes from here. Day "one" down, Day "two". ... covered.