Perhaps I Should Hide ...

This is totally what I would look like today if I were, you know, doing my hair or something.

Dude.

I've had a horrible day so far - and it's not even 10 a.m. yet.

I'm almost afraid to complain about it because it could be far worse, y'all. I mean, I'm not homeless or terminally ill or starving. In the grand scheme of things, I'm still totally lucky.

BUT.

In the context of my little life, my usually-pretty-decent little life, this morning has been a doozy. And it all started with a banjo riff.

If you've been reading me for a while, you've heard me complain about this before. My husband uses his iPhone as his alarm clock, and the sound is a totally annoying banjo. It's not so bad if you only hear it once or twice. But this morning it went like this:

4:45 - banjo riff.
4:55 - banjo riff.
5:05 - banjo riff. Me: a light tap tap tap on Curtis's back.
5:15 - banjo riff. Me: tap tap tap TAP
5:25 - banjo riff. Me: nudge
5:35 - banjo riff. Me: NUDGE
5:45 - banjo riff. Me: "Forgawd'sakewillyoupleasejustgetUP!"

Okay. I didn't really say "please." In fact, despite my sleepy state, I was still irritated enough to bitch voice my opinion. "I understand your desire to press snooze," I hissed, so as not to wake the eight-million-children-and-dog that had somehow migrated to our bed in the night, "but that is an alarm. For the purpose of waking people up. So if you don't have to get up until 5:45, don't set it to go off until at least 5:30!"

So Curtis got up and went into the bathroom to escape my wrath get ready for work.

That's when I heard urp ... urp ... urp ...

It was the dog. Getting ready to throw up. On our bed.

Buried under sleeping kids, I mustered all the force I could to kick her gagging ass off the bed. Then I tried to quickly extricate myself from the pile without waking anyone - but I wasn't quick enough. By the time I got to her, Josie had thrown up on the bedroom floor. Twice.

Aaaaaand the kids were awake. And the baby was crying.

I called Curtis from his hideout the bathroom to help me. "Get the baby while I clean this up," I said. (Politeness is not really my strong suit in the morning.)

He picked Coby up. "Did you know there's a huge wet spot in the bed?"

I looked. And there was. About nine inches across, I'd say. Although we never really figured it out for sure, I'd say it was pee - his diaper was mostly dry, but if you have boys, you've probably experienced the misfortune of a penis pointed in the wrong direction. And then I started to notice that the whole hip-area of my pajama pants felt cold and damp ... because, you guessed it, I'd been laying in the mysterious funk.

I stumbled tiredly into the kitchen to get some paper towels for the dog-spew when I stepped on something sharp. What the ...? Come to find out, it was broken glass. One of the cats had apparently knocked over a glass that was sitting on the counter in the night, shattering it. And oh, lucky me, the broken glass had been filled with water ... which was now all over the counter.

I managed to get the messes cleaned up. Barely six o'clock, and the kids were running around like crazy men, in turns bickering and laughing maniacally. I don't know if it was the novelty of being awake in the pre-dawn dark or what, but they were acting like animals. And of course, Curtis had to get to work. He was running late. (Maybe because he'd hit snooze for a freaking hour, ya think?)

When Colin took a break from his crazy to go to the bathroom, he was all, "Ewwwww!"

I was afraid to ask. But I didn't need to ask, because he continued, "Josie chewed up a poopy diaper in here!"

Yes. Somehow the dog had gotten ahold of a poopy diaper and shredded it, turds and all, over the entire floor of the boys' bathroom.

The same dog that, I would find out a few minutes later, had also pooped and peed on the laundry room floor.

And pee, coincidentally, is what Cameron did - all over my desk chair - about twenty minutes ago.

So you see? I may not have it bad in the grand scheme of things, but today just isn't my day so far. I wish I had the option to go back to bed.

But even if I could, my sheets are in the wash.