Am I Being Punked?

When I woke up this morning at 10:00am I had no idea how the morning was going to turn out.  I have a 2 year old who cried for three hours straight last night and a husband on Franklin Delano Roosevelt crutches who can't do anything for himself but sit on the couch.  I should have taken my cue about how the morning would play out by the first thing that happened to me.  Please observe my seemingly innocent German refrigerator. 

In a sleepy daze at 10am I leaned over to open the freezer on the bottom to replace Evans's hashbrowns.  Except that instead of pulling on the freezer door I accidentally pulled on the refrigerator door.  Hard.  Nearly knocking myself unconscious while crumpling to the floor.  I was so shocked I started to cry but five minutes later I could not stop laughing.  I think this was an omen of what was to come.  

I feel like I need to set the stage a bit for y'all so you can understand just how funny this next episode was.  When we come home from vacation our house always looks like a tornado has blown through it. This time is no different and perhaps much much worse.  Since Richard has hurt his foot and can't do anything, only half of the suitcases have made it up the stairs.  The other half are in a state of half unpacked all around my living room.  Last night two of our three Christmas boxes arrived and are also adding to the disarray around my den.  Bottom line, my house has never looked so awful.  

Around 11:00am this morning we were all lounging around the den in our pajamas.  I realize this sounds very lazy but when you listen to a jet lagged child scream for three hours a night, you take your relaxation when you can get it.  Richard was laid up on the couch with ice on his ankle and Evans and I were cutting into a new toy while debating which toys had to be moved up to the playroom to make room for the new ones.  There were breakfast dishes on the table, breakfast remains on Evans's highchair (which was also in the den) and you could sum up the state of the house by saying there was crap everywhere.  Cue the doorbell.  

Horror stricken I looked at Deaner, who of course couldn't help me, and realized I was going to have to go see who it was.  Hoping it was just my neighbor I went down and answered the door looking T-terrible.  The German at the front door went into some long spiel I didn't understand until he finally switched to English, stating he was from the CHILD PROTECTION SERVICES!  Ummmm, come again?

I swear, even after the words sunk in, I stood there like a dope.  Thankfully the dude spoke English and was able to explain that he was there because he had received notice from Frankfurt that I had not taken  Evans to his two year old check up with his pediatrician.  Even after I started comprehending what the guy was saying all I could think was "no one would ever come to my house in the US even if I never took my child to ANY doctor's appointments EVER".   SO.......I had to invite this man into my tornado devastated house so that he could inspect Evans's pediatrician records.  For once I was grateful for my OCD because I knew exactly where the records were he was requesting to see.  I could tell that the guy was embarrassed because it was clearly a mistake but imagine having to invite Child Protection Services into your house full knowing what it is going to look like.  The cherry on the top is that when he was looking at the records Evans was walking around the room announcing he had "poo poo pants".  

Sigh.  

When it rains, it pours.  

At least my ankle doesn't look like this.  

That is all.