Today I woke up early and made breakfast.

That was my first mistake. Making breakfast CAN be a good thing unless it makes me late for work because I still have to run up to the convenience store to get snacks DESPITE the fact that I HAD snacks but somewhere between Friday and Monday morning, they all disappeared which shouldn’t surprise me, and it doesn’t -not REALLY -but it does irritate me, so I pack up the kids, a picnic breakfast for them to eat while I work, a makeshift “discovery” game (Columbus style!), an iPad for rest time, and a diaper bag.
Of course the kids didn’t finish their breakfast, but they did finish their treats.
And the baby ate 5 cookies for brunch. FIVE cookies and one bottle.
There are 15 cookies in one package. This means I ate 14 cookies because only one cookie was given away to my sweet nephew, and the empty package was thrown away as I left work today.
Speaking of which, I can field calls with a crying baby in my arms and then I can field phone calls with a sleeping baby on my chest because I just happen to live in a town where I can peaceably explain to Sam that Sorry, I can’t speak up, there’s a sleeping baby on my chest, and he chuckles sweetly like every grandpa should. And we all know Sam is a wonderful grandpa and that his wife makes the best cinnamon rolls.
Ten minutes later, Sam is in the shop getting a new battery and the baby is still snoring on my chest.
During this time, I return three texts and cancel a Dr’s appointment for tomorrow.
I also hit up the family dentist about my receding gums and receive the rather startling news that I’m getting old (gums kinda naturally recede with age) at which point I turn to the packaged Chips Ahoy cookies and drown my sorrows in the poison that receded my gums in the first place.
(PS: you can go ahead and pay me for the dental advice I just gave you. I’ll pass the cash onto Uncle Clarence.)

I pulled into my driveway in the late afternoon and my phone rang. It was my sister. I quickly answered and was overjoyed that she’s on Verizon because I’m almost over my minutes, but I can talk to her forever for FREE.
I never go over my minutes.
But if there ever was any month that would throw me over my minutes, this last month would be that month.
The kids find a snake on the lawn. I bring them inside. I go outside to check the snake and can’t find it.
I hope the cat does…

The kids eat muddy buddies and I watch Downton Abbey for 50 blessed zoned-out minutes.
At 7, I lose all memory of every single night from the previous year and take my children -at SEVEN, mind you -to my grand-parents house where they promptly lose all sense of manners and go absolutely crazy, exactly as they’ve done at promptly SEVEN PM every single night this past year. Sorry for all the redundancy in that last sentence. But anyway: they’re hyper and disobedient, and after an hour I pull back into my own driveway and let them know how I didn’t appreciate how disrespectful their behavior was this evening.
My daughter tells me I’m mean and that she can’t wait to visit her Grammy.
“Do you think Grammy will be okay with your crazy behavior?”
“Well, I won’t do it for HER.”

I make it inside.
Trenton pees on his bedroom carpet because the bathroom is apparently just TOOOOO far and he couldn’t make it in time.
I cover the tomatoes with a tarp so they don’t freeze.
I take one more phone call (for free, since I can’t afford to give up my minutes).
My daughter hands me a handwritten note of apology with a stick of my own gum attached to it, “I am sorry Mom I did not act raspect Full I love you Do you love me Nest time I will be Raspect Full Love Lacy”
I secretly love run on sentences (and sometimes use them to lead into posts -like I did today -it emphasizes the extent of the firing shortages in my brain).
A metal waterbottle full of water was dropped on the carpet and one big toe is red and throbbing while one giant spot on my carpet is soaked THROUGH… not 15 minutes after my son soaked his own piece of carpet. The theme of the night is wet carpet.

And finally, as I’m winding down and unable to create a post with any form or consistency… my children are sitting on the couch together, reading a book quietly while the baby coos contentedly on the floor as she crawls from one end of the living room to the other.
She has a tooth now, you know? She got it yesterday. It’s brand new. Who wants to tell her what happens to it when she turns 28? Receding gums are no raspector of persons. At least she’ll always have Chips Ahoy. Unless the government steps in, but I digress…

In a few minutes, I’ll be asleep.
And a few hours after that, I’ll be right back at it again.

It’s no big deal.

(“He looks like a pink nightmare!” ~Ralpie’s Ol’ Man)