I guess I have reached my max

I thought three kids was a lot to handle. Turns out that for me,  four is the number that might kill me. I can't even take a full breath. Really, I shouldn't be sitting down to write this, there is sooooo much I need to get done, but I need therapy and for me, writing is just that.
So on to my stories:
Yesterday I was trying desperately to get a screaming baby down for a nap. It wasn't happening he was putting up the biggest fight yet. In between sessions of going into his room to try and calm him into sleep yet again I see Drake kind of meandering around downstairs. I asked him what was up to which he replied, "oh, just checking on Carson in the bathroom."
Coming from Drake, this could mean any number of things but I thought I should look into it. There Carson stood, looking in the mirror blotting a gushing wound with a wad of toilet paper. "Are you ok??" I questioned while assessing the situation.
"Yeah I'm fine."
I wasn't so sure. Just the day before Carson had smashed his finger outside between a stick and the pavement. He came inside to clean it up an ended up fainting on the kitchen floor.
"Well, lets get you taken care of," I urged.
I was overly "helpful" as I took Carson to the kitchen to clean he and the wound and get it dressed and bandaged. In the middle of it all the doorbell rings.
There stood my neighbor and her granddaughter. "Uh, Drake is stuck in a tree out back yelling for help. You might want to go get him."
I had no clue he was outside. If I had, I would have been listening through the screen door. As it was I was busy scrutinizing Carson for any signs of passing out.
I quickly rushed out back to see Drake stranded in our lilac bush holding a bucket of sand. The second I took it from him he shimmied out of the tree. It was like a monkey trap.
Meanwhile, Bowen is still screaming.
Fail number 437,912 - 3, and 4

Today, I was prepping potatoes for baking. I wanted them extra clean - I REALLY don't like getting a bit of grit on my otherwise delicious baked potato. Apparently I also wanted them to be extremely ventilated, otherwise I wouldn't have been stabbing them to death with so much vigor. In all my gusto I managed to put a fork into my left thumb.
It hurt a lot, but was really make my stomach church was that when I jerked away, the potato, fork and my thumb were all still stuck together.
I cleaned and dressed the wound as well as I could and hastily moved on.
It was later at dinner that I realized with all of the throbbing and swelling that I had actually stabbed clear the the fatty part of my thumb to the other side.
Yes, I am very sleep deprived.
Fail number 437,915

Its a good thing my husband is so stinking awesome. Not to mention my sweet little kiddos. Somehow I think we will all make it through this :).

(I guess I should mention that part of what is making life c.r.a.z.y right now is that on top of major adjustments with another baby, school, and life in general. Dave has started his MBA and was just called to be the Stake Executive Secretary. I thought we were busy with just the 3 boys...turns out I was very, very wrong :).