Nice To Meet You

You know how sometimes people say, “I should have gone back to bed” after a bad day? Well, that was my yesterday. Except I did go back to bed. But apparently the universe did not get the memo.

I awoke yesterday morn with the achey, cruddy, grossies {which I am attributing to allergies, carrier monkey germs, nursing stealing my sleep and my immunity, or motherhood}. So my loving husband offered this: go back to bed. I’ll take the children to school.

Well, you don’t have to tell me twice. Errr, actually he did have to tell me several times but the end result was me going back to bed and him shipping the boys to and fro. And you know what? Even though I’d done my part, I’d gone back to bed, the day was still a complete comedy of errors.

Baby sleep was complete crap. Literally. Harrison pooped himself awake from both naps resulting in 75 minutes of napping for the whole day {can we please figure out a way to let babies in on the secret that naps are basically amazing? K thanks.}.

The earth was clearly rotating faster or tilted oddly. Jonah spilled his milk at lunch, his water at dinner, and while attempting to empty his lunch plate into the trash, he managed to dump a cup of Mac n Cheese all over the floor {Poor kiddo, he was just trying to help}.

The odds were unfortunately not in my favor. I attempted to exchange some newly purchased running shoes post-school. On the first attempt, I realized I’d left the shoes at my house and went home to snag them up. I can’t say the universe wasn’t trying to warn me with that gesture. We returned to the store wherein one child used 8 stacked shoe boxes as a pretend home base, throwing his whole body, head first into the pile and knocking them down like bricks. As the very tired baby screamed in his carrier. And the other brother did extreme yoga poses in the shoe fitting seat ditties. Seriously. All of it. And of course, upon deciding that I would just return the shoes I’d previously purchased, because by that point, I was schvitzing, I realized I didn’t have my billfold in tow. So I left with the original shoes I’d previously purchased. Only to need to return them another day.

After returning home, I began dinner prep, only to reach up to the cabinet for the olive oil, and have a bottle of canola oil, with an apparent very loose lid, topple down from the shelf and pour all over the floor. Causing a spill similar to Saved By The Bell. This had me both crying and thinking about saving the pet duck, Becky. But seriously, I immediately broke into tears. Because it was literally 3/4 of a bottle of oil. About an inch deep on the floor.

And splattered all over the cupboards.

The counter.

And me. {and no. This picture was not photoshopped. That smudged eye makeup is real.}

I then took the next 20 minutes holding a baby in one arm and sopping up oil with the other. As well as with my feet {And here I thought I’d missed working out for the day…}. Which really would have taken the cake. Until I realized that in all of the oil spill craziness, I’d burnt my rice. I’m fairly certain that tempting fate by making tacos on a Wednesday was a poor choice {taco taco taco Tuesday… We eat those tacos ’cause it’s Tuesday}.

So. I did it. I went back to bed. At the beginning of the day, things were off. And I crawled back in between the sheets. I did not pass go. I did not collect $200. And yet, it was still a shitstorm of a day. So I’d hate to imagine what the universe would have had in store for me had I not gotten the extra ZZZs.

On the bright side, I did get a nap before it all started to hit the fan. And I did get to see this happen…