The wrong side of the bed at 4am

You know when you have those days where the ENTIRE day is nothing but crap? The days where you feel like you have no business being a mom and if you were working a regular old 9-5 job, you would have called your boss with some lame excuse as to why you couldn't make it in. That is my day today. But, I couldn't call in saying my cat died and I needed to go spread her ashes across the forests of Rocky Mountain National Park while I was really out there mountain biking. No, instead I had to suck it up and listen to screaming kids all day long while dealing with a pounding headache. How awesome is that? About as awesome as ebola, I tell you.

So, 4am rolls around and Logan decides that it would be a good idea to wedge himself in the middle of us in bed while continually kicking and elbowing me in the back for two hours while I don't sleep. For the rest of the day, The Headache That Won't Go Away hangs on to the back of my skull for dear life as if it were going skydiving and changed it's mind right before jumping. Hours and hours of screaming kids - either both at the same time or one right after the other prompted me to seriously ask myself why I haven't tried to trade-out my services with an engineer who would build me a sensory deprivation tank in my closet. It's totally big enough and it can't be that expensive. Hell, I'd just take a pine box at this point.

And, Logan apparently woke up on the same side of the bed that I did. He felt so wonderful after he woke up from his nap that he screamed his head off for two straight hours, crying about how he couldn't get his socks on - the same socks that he's proudly put on himself while excitedly running around in circles "I DID IT ALL MYSELF!" Then he cried some more on the bike ride to Target because a rain drop fell on his shoe. Not many rain drops; a single, lonely, sad, rain drop who was separated from the rest of his family. Boo-hoo. I'm actually wondering if it was a mother rain drop who decided to jump cloud and escape before her droplet children caused it to thunder and lighting.

That bike ride was exceptionally enjoyable because we live in a neighborhood with an invisible crosswalk. I was walking my bike across the street - with the kids in a bright red and yellow bike trailer and people would not stop for me crossing on the CROSSWALK. I had to stand in the middle of a 4-lane street to wait for people to slow down, which they didn't, while I shook my fist yelling "I'M IN A CROSSWALK YOU DUMB ASS!"

Let's not forget about the Mom Of The Year yelling I performed all throughout the day, "LISTEN TO ME! HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU TO (fill in the blank)?!?!?!" I felt like I had won the lottery because those were some great odds that the two of us, Logan and I, would be such a fantastic pair today.

Then, at the end of the night, I decided to throw in the towel. "That's it! We're skipping baths tonight! Where are your jammies!?" With Logan watching Finding Nemo, I take Carter upstairs to get ready for bed. As he's on the changing table, I talk to him matter-of-factly. "Listen. I've had enough. I'm tired of all of this. I don't want to hear any more screaming. I don't want to hear any more crying. No more yelling, fighting and whining. The day is done. I am done". You know what he does? He looks at me smiling the whole time with his beautiful blue sparkling eyes and his tiny white first tooth popping through his gummy grin. He giggles after every one of my sentences, thinking that this has to be the funniest conversation he's ever heard. It makes me smile and shake my head. At least he's going to bed happy.

Logan seems to be exorcised of his demons when I come back downstairs and has stopped trying to channel poltergeists even though he is chasing the cat around the kitchen and she's meowing her aggravated LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE meow. He sits down for a little longer and says he wants to cuddle. I have hope that the night will end well for him too. The exorcism doesn't stick because then he starts crying and whining, which lands him straight into bed faster than you can say "Ringling Brothers!" because this is beginning to feel like the circus from hell.

Ahhh, well. I guess tomorrow is another day.