I originally started this post on April 24th and put it off to finish another day. Life got a little busy, the topic started to disinterest me and I moved on to other things. Then yesterday I read back through it and FINALLY saw the humor in it and decided I needed to share this one with you. There’s no way I can keep this one to myself.
April 23, 2013:
Have you ever had one of those mornings/afternoons/evenings, dare I say DAYS, that you just want to END. No matter what happens you just couldn’t POSSIBLY take ONE. MORE. THING.
I was 100% ready to rage quit my night last night.
I had to run to the store last night before getting home for a few things for a new recipe I was trying and for taco night for the family. That’s nothing out of the norm. I got all my goods gathered, strapped the Monkey back into her car seat and made it home. Tucker was already home with Grady. Homework was underway. It seemed like all would be good.
I’m beginning to be a pretty good hand at making TWO meals at the same time. The veggie knife and I are very well acquainted. For whatever reason, I was feeling “chaotic” last night in my kitchen. There was a lot going on with my new recipe and I was trying hard to get supper done at a descent time. I don’t like eating late. We finally got supper on the table and had the kids gathered with food in front of them when Grady’s phone rang. It was a business call that couldn’t be missed. The kids and I prayed and started to eat. Grady finally joined us and I realized I had no drink. I got up, grabbed a half full cup of tea, in passing, that was left on our bar to put in the sink while I got a clean one. (I’m always multi-tasking.) As I grabbed the cup it hit the corner of the bar and spilled all down the front of my skirt and on my boots and all over the floor. My chaos level was just heightened to a new level. Now my supper would have to sit, getting cold while I cleaned up the spill and changed my clothes. To say I was a little growly would be sufficient.
I stomped into my bedroom to change. As I went to my dresser to grab some pajama pants I stepped in a nice, gooey pile of dog diarrhea. AGGHHHH!!!!!! All levels of chaos went THROUGH THE ROOF at that point in time. I was beyond any sort of consoling. I’m embarrassed to say it, but LOTS of naughty words flew out of my mouth. It was kind of out of control. That’s just what happens when dog poop is thrown into the mix.
I could hear Grady at the dinner table telling the kids in a whisper kind of voice, “I think Mommy’s really mad…”
I finally calmed down, ate my supper, got Ella in the bathtub and cleaned up the dog’s mess. Grady cleaned the kitchen without a word and all seemed to be calming down.
…and then 4:30 AM struck.
I was sound asleep. The dreams were sweet, I think… I’m naturally a light sleeper so when I heard Jess (the dachshund with diarrhea) wake up and start moving around I was awake. Then I heard it, the dreaded sound. Poor Jess was trying hard to wake us up and make it to the door in time.
Unfortunately, he didn’t.
There was a explosion.
Oh, yes, my friends. It wasn’t just an “accident”. It was a full on EXPLOSION.
On my bedroom floor.
***Big. Fat. Sigh.***
I had to clean up ANOTHER mess.
I couldn’t help the gag reflex this time. It was awful. Worse than what I’d stepped in.
All the while Grady pretended to be asleep while I tried desperately not to lose the contents of my stomach on the floor next to the mess I was scrubbing.
At that moment I OFFICIALLY rage quit the day.
I couldn’t take one more thing.
Peace, love and life’s little treats.