I am having an "Oh good golly you're driving me crazy!" morning.
I am trying to remain optimistic.
But it's not going well.
It started when Spencer trotted up the stairs at 0500 (because he hops the gate now) wielding two glow-in-the-dark swords which were party favors from Logan's epic 6th birthday party. (Thanks a bunch Logan's mom. Maybe I should break up with you!... Except Henry had a ball, thanks for the party. Spencer too!) Grr.
So, guess who got to watch a movie at 0500? No, not me! Spencer.
Derek stayed up until oh gosh, 0455 doing who knows what for work, (darn teaching online, it never ends!) and so I really wanted to keep the punks quiet. Buuuutttt, I have a headache that was acquired last night (sidenote: Waking up with the same headache you went to bed with sucks) and my stomach is in all kinds of knots (do not ask me how many bananas I ate yesterday) and my hair is like freaking EVERYWHERE and why in the world had Oliver taken off all his clothes? And why were my children running around like orangutans? (Sidenote: The word is pronounced and spelled or-ang-uh-tan, not or-ang-uh-tang. Don't believe me? Google it.)
And begging to be fed began. Now look, I get that it must be frustrating, having like zero autonomy as a little kid. Someone is constantly telling you what to eat, when to eat, when to sleep, etc. But I mean, have I ever FORGOTTEN to feed them? NO!
So, now they are eating dry cereal out of Ikea bowls as we cower in the basement.
What kind of cereal? You guessed it. I brought down THREE KINDS for our little dry cereal picnic and they all poo-pooed every one except their beloved shredded wheat. (Get it? "poo-pooed".... never mind.)
And why is Oliver wearing one shoe, on the wrong foot?
And the baby! Oh that sweet beautiful Ezra who was determined to fusstulate (apparently this is not a real word. Check it. It is NOW!) his heart out for no apparent reason that turned out to be a dirty diaper and a desire to go back to sleep. ME TOO, KID! WE CAN'T HAVE EVERYTHING WE WANT.
Except he's a baby, so he got a new bum and sent back to bed.
And I think I better put my contacts in. It always feels like the freaking middle of the night when I have my glasses on, regardless of the time of day. Contacts and a hair elastic (to contain the crazy) will make this feel day feel like a day.
Heavens, it's Friday! I need an attitude adjustment.
And the aforementioned hair elastic.
***UPDATE*** Oliver just dumped a ton of shredded wheat and the DOG ate it. I don't even want to think about that... EWEWEWEW! And Oliver is poopy. I need a vacation.***
***UPDATE*** Ezra is crying. And it is snowing.
***UPDATE*** Hair elastic and Diet Coke. Found.