Escaping the snow and the busy schedules of three youngsters may sound like a good idea when in the planning phase but the first full day back on the job was exhausting.

I had missed the crafting, puzzles, Jenga towers that became Barbie catwalks and bunk-beds for Polly Pocket, which then became high diving platforms for Barbie to pancake an unsuspecting, sleeping Polly Pocket so I tried to jump in with two enthusiastic pig-tails and give the kids (and the dolls) my undivided attention.

The 100 piece under water adventure puzzle with no business being assembled on the ottoman might have broken me before our holiday but today I let our logistical error roll right off of me, and the ottoman. Poor old Michael Finnegan had to begin again. No problem, I’m well rested.

We played Operation and my hands were focused, nerves of steel.

We played Crazy 8’s and I was patient in my re-explanation of the rules and correction of them when they were unintentionally broken by my sometimes eager opponent.

The baby’s newly developed rash is a slight concern but we’ll look at that on Friday at our regular check-up and will burn the playing cards to keep the germs to a minimum on the Doctor’s recommendation. She’s pulling at her ears and still coughing. I’m questioning whether the first batch of meds for tonsillitis cleared the initial virus. We’ll rock in that comfy glider a little longer before bed tonight. I have all the energy in the world.

Then somewhere around 1:30pm after the baby’s restless nap, lunch, laundry, several diaper changes, rash check, crazy cards, too many blocks from the bottom being placed on top and a buzzing Operation board, I was ready to toss it under the first school bus I saw.

The baby, now obviously completely out of sorts is dragging me to the computer to hit replay on Elmo singing “New Way To Walk” with Destiny’s Child. It’s categorized as new but Destiny’s Child hasn’t been a band for quite some time and for some reason, this irks me. Still, it’s a toe-tapper and Chloe throws herself on the mercy of the keyboard when Ellie begs to click the “red X” to shut things down. The baby’s tantrum lasts anywhere from three minutes to what time is it?

Baby now hoarse from screaming, Ellie wants to test my endurance. Holding seven fanned princess cards I hear her ask, “Mommy, are you asleep?” Hmmm. If you didn’t think it was possible to fall asleep playing Princess Go Fish, I have no doubt Ellie has proof somewhere in her photo library.

We picked Hanna up from school who had spelling homework, music homework, a music lesson, a spaghetti craving and was insisting on a shower to be administered alone without the help of any parents so it would not interfere with her return from music lessons and the promise of a 7pm t.v. show before bed.

I felt the bathroom floor flooding from a mile away but I had my eye on a cranky, spaghetti eating baby with saucy noodles smeared across her forehead in a high chair she would love to prove she can jump out of. Splashing onto the ceramic tile floor is simply not an option even if Barbie had some impressive dives this morning.

I wiped up the bathroom floor with the required seven towels, cleared the tub for a noodley baby and scanned the backyard for a pack of starving, wild hyenas which would be my only hope at cleaning this sauced up high chair.

Ellie complains of a tummy-ache, Hanna cries when I comb her hair, the baby craps in the tub, I hopped in the car for a parent-teacher meeting on what felt like the coldest night of the year.

Time to build Mommy a Jenga bed (heated mattress pad assumed).