The Curse of the Garage Door

No, I didn't run into the garage door with my car again. (Thank goodness!). I was hurriedly (is that a word?) putting my kiddos in the car so I could make it to my aerobics class on time (for once), and then I pushed the wall button that opens the garage (since my remote opener has been suspended from my possession indefinitely). I closed the car door to the back seat only to have the emergency release string for the garage door get slammed into the top of the car door as the garage door was almost to the top. As I realized what I had done I quickly opened the door but was a milisecond too late. The emergency release had disengaged the garage door and it went slamming to the ground with a bang.

I tried for awhile to get the garage door hooked back up to the chain, but after what seemed like forever, I let my squealing kids go back inside and realized the gym was not going to happen today. I called Ryan and even consulted the unhelpful garage-door-owners-manual to see if I could figure this out on my own so we wouldn't be trapped at the house all day. If you know me at all you know that I am clumsy and uncoordinated to begin with, but it is magnified when I try to do anything of a "handyman" nature. Despite this unfortunate characteristic of mine, I was able to get the dang-stupid-dumb-cursed thing working in less than an hour. Gym back on baby.

Well, maybe not. When I went inside to collect the boys Talan was running down the hall with poop all over his legs. "I tried to call for you mom but you didn't hear me!" Talan cried. That's because I was fixing the garage door that is trying to kill me. After cleaning him up I began to find poop smears scattered throughtout the house.....on the shower wall, the bathroom counter, his dresser, in Tyce's room and on the outside of at least four other diapers. Poop is my life.