First, I awoke to a mess since ONCE AGAIN I went to bed with a low-grade fever last night and wasn’t able to do ANYTHING on my to-do list. Curse this fever crap! I’ve got no time for my body’s shenanigans!
So I went downstairs after deciding that there was no more room in the bed for me. A husband and two boys plus a mom makes for a very crowded queen-sized bed.
I attempted to read the Bible but got sucked in to The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, which Boy #3 has begun watching in the mornings. Will Smith in a fade—how could I resist?
This is when I heard the crash in the kitchen. Yes, it was one of my Longaberger dessert plates, which the DOG had knocked off the counter trying to snag a piece of last night’s chicken (which of course was still on the counter due to the previous night’s fever). Why, oh why do I have ceramic plates? We should all be eating on paper plates until the boys are grown and the dog is trained (HA!). Or just avoiding plates altogether and going straight from the pan to our mouths by shoveling with our hands.
I went upstairs to get the boys out of my bed and ready for school and was met by screams because the DOG had jumped on the bed (obviously with my same intentions) and accidentally scratched poor Boy #3’s cold sore right off his lip. So now instead of looking just like a nasty cold sore (which no one else in our family has ever had, by the way) it looks like a bloody, weepy wound on the top of his lip. I don’t blame him at all for yelling, “I don’t want Teddy anymore!” In fact, I think I’VE been yelling this for about six months now…But I digress…
It was about this time that I glanced at my bedside table and noticed that something just wasn’t right…Hmm…could it be the fact that the top is in THREE PIECES?!? ?Yeah, I have NO idea what happened. It was fine when I went to bed last night, and this morning—a broken mess. Granted, it WAS from Goodwill, but I thought it was a nice, sturdy piece of furniture. Obviously there were a few cracks hiding there, just waiting for the right moment to “EXPWODE” as Boy #3 put it. At least it will now match the broken wooden rocking chair that is also in my bedroom…It’s always nice to have a matching ensemble.
After showering, with no major mishaps except that I could only find a hooded toddler towel to dry off with, I got dressed and went downstairs to help the boys get ready. I helped Boy #2 get into his brand-new “track suit” Grandma picked up for us at the Black Friday sale at Walmart. We were just commenting on how nice he looked in it when I went to zip up the jacket—at the zipper pull completely fell apart in my hand. I guess I shouldn’t expect too much from a four-dollar outfit.
Then I sent my boys off with mismatched gloves and random stocking caps that I grabbed from their “home” in the middle of the floor. Of course, I had to ask my sister to pick them up on her way to drop HER girls off at school, as always, so my kids wouldn’t be tardy. I’ve already received ONE letter from the school, reminding me of the “importance of school attendance.” My husband, the teacher, is justifiably mortified.
After finally getting myself ready and chasing the DOG around the house so I could put him in his crate (which he is SUPPOSED to feel is “his home”), I got Boy #3 out the door and then realized–crap–I forgot to warm up the van so the inch of ice that’s covering it could melt a bit. (Yes, we have a two-car garage. No, neither of us can park in it.) So I scraped the van, sang “The Hippo Song” (Does anyone else know this–“Hip-hip-hippopotamus, Hip-hip-hooray, God made all of us…”??) at least five times in a row, and pulled into daycare—and realized that I had forgotten Boy #3’s shoes. I’m sure his teachers LOVE the fact that he’ll be tromping around all day in his clunky reindeer snowboots! (And with a bloody, weepy cold sore too!)
Just another day in paradise…