Great. How do I explain THIS one?

The kids have all been sick this week.

With two different bugs: one a cold, the other high fever and early (and short-lived) stomach icks.

Yay me.

Dan has been sick, too. This is the first day he's made it into the office all week.

Did I mention I've been sick too?

All of that aside...

I'm trying to manage three kids, Charity now with the high fever sick and the twins not-so-sick (they just have the cold now and a low-grade fever). Once the ibuprofen gets in Charity, in a few hours she feels "all better." The twins are hard to stop.

I feel like I've been running a marathon all day between catching up on laundry, keeping diapers changed, feeding them, feeding me, feeding cats, giving the old cat her shot on time (I managed that today! I'm so proud of me), doing more laundry with small helpers who are not helping but rather squeezing around me, finally getting around to doing hair, and then lunch.

I had maybe a total of five minutes to myself so far today. All of those were trips to the bathroom. And one was interrupted.

I'm trying to breathe (figuring maybe that fake TV-Lamaze will get me through this without my blood pressure going through the roof) when Faith pops her head through the doorway. (Truly, there is no sense in closing the door.)

"Yes, honey?" I'm feeling somewhat resigned.

"JoyJoy is pushing!"

"Pushing what?"

"JoyJoy is pushing buttons on youwr phone!"

"JoyJoy!" I shout. "Leave my phone alone!"

By the time I have finished up and gotten back out to the living room where I left my phone (silly me), my BlackBerry is blinking at me.

One missed call. One new voicemail.

I recognize the number as that of one of my favorite caregivers--he's always a delight to talk to--whom I'd spoken with much earlier in the day.

I don't know what he wants, but I do know I don't want to deal with it now.

I change diapers. Start laundry. Open a bunch of new CDs that just arrived from Amazon.com that make the kids squeal as they recognize their favorite Veggies all over the covers. Start playing one of the CDs. Keep youngest child from jumping into the washer. Half-kill myself tripping over the hobby horse laying on the floor, not once but twice. (Ankle protests sharply.) Make lunch. Answer the phone. Finally I get thirty seconds when no one is screaming or crying or shouting or demanding juice or talking or whining that "she's touching me!" or anything like that, and I dial my voicemail.

I listen to Daniel's message. In thickly accented English, he tells me that he saw that I just called him, so he was returning my call. I should call him back when I get this.

Golly.

I check the history on my BlackBerry for his number. Sure enough, two minutes before his last call, there was an outgoing one to his number.

I look at JoyJoy, who was eating lunch. "You called Daniel!"

She gives me a goobery happy grin.

I sigh, and note the voicemail on the BlackBerry's notepad app, as well as my next call...to Daniel, to explain that I really didn't need anything.

Then I call Daniel. When he answers, I explain that I didn't call him. My three-year-old had.

He's really amused.

Then I text Dan to find out when he's coming home. And I tell him what our youngest did.

He also finds it amusing.

I can't wait until it gets back to the office that my three-year-old namesake is trying to take over my job....