Sad sounds and happy sounds

Sad sound number one: Yesterday the dishwasher part arrived in the mail, which was exciting because there was a chance that the dishwasher could be working in time for Thanksgiving. J. spent the evening replacing the part, thought he had done it correctly, and so turned on the dishwasher. The sad sound was water pouring out of the dishwasher all across the kitchen floor. It was a very sad sound. It was even sadder when it happened a second time after J. thought he had figured out what was wrong. Water running across the kitchen floor is never a happy sound.

Sad sound number two: After having wiped up all the water I heard R.'s unique and PTSD inducing shriek from her bed. This particular shriek never bodes well. Never. I went up and got her calmed down... twice. The second time she actually fell back asleep while I was sitting on her bed with her. She has never done that before. But then both J. and I were up in the middle of the night, with me finally bringing her into our bed so we could all pretend to sleep. The other bit of good news hidden in this bad news is that usually when she does this, we will see multiple psychogenic seizures throughout the night. Last night? Not a single one. This is also a first. 

Happy sound number one: This morning R. was not doing very well and definitely needed me to be near her at all times to help her regulate. Since I have yet to figure out how to clone myself, I would need help to get everything done that needed to happen in order to be ready for Thanksgiving. The happy sounds were G. agreeing to feed, turn out, and do stalls for the horses, D. agreeing to go run the two errands I needed done, L. agreeing to make the cranberry-orange relish, and Y. agreeing to make the pumpkin pie filling. (One of the things I did manage to do this morning was get the pie crusts made that we needed.) When people wonder how I do it, it is truly only because I do have so many children.

Happy sound number two: J. had been doing more research on how to fix the dishwasher and figured out how to make the new part work. He pulled the whole machine out again to work on it before dinner, this time with much more success. The happiest sound of the past 48 hours was the swishy washing sound of a functioning dishwasher that was not pouring water all over the kitchen floor.

You want to know the happy sound I am hoping to hear tonight? Nothing. I want to hear not one single sound, particularly of the shrieking variety. We will all have a much more pleasant holiday tomorrow if the parent types can get a full night's sleep.