My husband is out of town, as usual. Which means mornings are all me.
I set my alarm to wake up early to exercise, but my Little Meems (who slept with me last night) was super snuggly and I decided to enjoy it while it lasted, because it would be short-lived. It was. Girlfriend is mean when she decides she doesn’t want to snuggle any more.
My stomach is on fire and the thought of food makes me ill. Which makes packing lunches and snacks and preparing breakfast all the more delightful.
We were out of Log Cabin syrup, so Mrs. Butterworth substituted. This did not go over well. Darn you Kroger for not having the extra large bottle.
The dog attacked Little Meems, which meant a lot of boohooing and moaning and stress over how much pain she was in. For the record, no skin was broken.
The dog pulled all the stuffing out of her bed, chewed up some playdough (I have no idea where she got that) and a few napkins, then ate a lightbulb.
Guess who got to clean all that up? Darn you, dog. Why must you make my life so crazy?
Little Meems wanted help deciding what to wear. Which means this: I go through her closet suggesting outfits and she poo-poos each one. She may not know what she wants to wear, but she certainly knows what she doesn’t want to wear. Which is the story of her life, really. In frustration, I force her to get herself dressed and make her own decisions. She does not appreciate this. At all. And she lets me know. Girlfriend is not afraid of a confrontation. With me, that is.
Still in my bathrobe.
I let Little Meems skip her stupid (yes, I hate it as much as she does) math homework yesterday so she could play (bad day at school) and now we have to do THAT this morning. Darn you greater than and less than, why do your signs have to be so confusing?
The dog is chewing the kitchen table. And now the ottoman. I get out the spray bottle, but she thinks it’s a game and gets even more wound up. Now she is sprinting like a greyhound in a circle all around the downstairs. I am trying to catch her, as are the boys. Which leads to a lot of screaming and noise and Little Meems IS TRYING TO CONCENTRATE and I’m still in my bathrobe and I need to get dressed because bus stop is in 10 minutes.
I find the only thing in my closet that doesn’t need to be ironed. And now this will be my new favorite dress.
All my shoes are neutrals. Which is great and practical, but boring. I lament the lack of color and excitement and think about the expensive, gorgeous Shumacher wallpaper I just ordered that will prevent me from getting any. Tradeoffs, right?
Ponytail days are the best, no?
The dog is so wound up I decide to take her with us to the bus stop. She proceeds to poop in the middle of the street, which thrills the boys, and I have to get it and hold onto her all while Little Meems freaks out about being late for the bus and now cars are stopping and one of them even honked. Really? You wanna’ drive your tire through poop? Be my guest.
The kids are on the bus, the dog is in her kennel and I need to leave for work, but wouldn’t it feel nice to crawl back into bed? Pick up prescriptions, stop at Target to get a notebook and syrup, but leave without the notebook or syrup because I bought a cute dress that I have been wanting instead and it was on sale and I forgot all about the notebook and syrup. Darn you, lack of focus!