I was going to blog about romance today.
But I am having a morning.
It started out when I woke up and realized that, yet again, Kaleb had gotten into my bed sometime during the night and fallen back asleep on his favorite spot in the world: my pillow-arm. OK, that doesn't paint a very flattering picture of my arm, does it? Well, the point is, when he's in my bed he likes to sleep on my arm. He's got a very strategic place to put his head, too, which is comfortable for him but highly unfortunate for the nerves in my arm. The rest of my body wakes up but my wrist and hand, which are numb for the next 45 minutes or so, and then my hands are stiff all morning.
I feel like an arthritic old woman.
Then it continued. Jacob was nothappy about getting up this morning, and acted like a, well, like a dang pre-pubescent boy. A little hint of what's coming down his hormonal pipeline, I suppose. Is it wrong of me that I would prefer my children, if they have to stop being newborns, to remain ten years old forever? His morning attitude sent me on a little crying spree, curled up in fetal position in my bed, sobbing to Kendell about how everyone is going to grow up and move away and I'm going to be all alone. With only my husband for company.
Someone shoot me now!
If it could go wrong, it did. Cream of wheat boiled over on the stove, the kids thought that watching TV (which they know we don't do in the morning) definitely took precedence over things like, you know, getting ready. I spilled 32 ounces of hot, soapy water all over the counter and it ran right into the new roll of paper towels I just opened. Shoes were not to be found, backpacks were missing, and yes, for the 1 millionth time, you do have to brush your teeth before school! And, i swear: if I have to convince Kaleb that he cannot wear his pajamas to school one more time, I might make pajamas illegal in our house. I went to grab Kaleb's package of cookies for preschool (each kid brings a package of cookies at the beginning of each month, and then they get to pass out their cookies one day, a practice established upon the idea of teaching them to share but which still slightly annoys me because I'm thinking that tuition should include snacks, but whatever, I'm grumpy this morning, don't listen to me) and discovered that someone had opened them. And eaten four. Jake and Nathan were late getting ready (happens when you watch TV instead of finding your backpack like I told you), so I had to drop them off at school, then run to Target for cookies.
Once I got home, I sat in the driveway for THREE minutes waiting for the garage door, which apparently has issues, to slowly raise. Now I'm trying to talk myself down from liquid comfort. You know, like a big hot chocolate, or some caramel apple cider from Starbucks. A giant Pepsi. Beer. Mornings like these help me understand binge drinking.
Am I sounding crazy yet?
I did get cheered out of my weeping-on-the-bed thing by a few blogs. Wendy had some Superbowl commercials (the potato head one is my favorite, and if you've ever been in the car with Kendell when there's traffic you'll know why I now sort of wish we were both ppotato heads; I'd definitely put his mouth in my purse), Chris had this funny post about how spoiled kids are now (which made me think I should blog about my brief affection for playing Asteroids on the Atari), and my sister Becky had this sweet post that made me cry in a good way (check it out if you were ever curious about what I looked like when I was five. Have I ever told you how much I HATED ringlets?).
I've convinced myself that a trip out for donuts and Starbucks isn't a good option (the garage door might not open again anyway) and am making do with some leftover gingerbread tea. And some of those cookies. But I'm really, really hoping the crazy has worked its way out of my morning, and the rest of the day will be calmer.