In which I step in a wet spot on the carpet ...

So, I woke up as Michael was getting ready (a time which I refer to as "the butt crack of dawn," which has a kind of poetry to it. ... Not really. The poetical-ness-essence. I DO refer to the crazy-early part of the day as what I said above.) and I couldn't fall back asleep.

So I went online and looked at ornaments to see if there are any that I really, really want to get for Bruise and Bucket. Since I try to make sure that we buy them an ornament every year. Relating to something that they like. Hallmark has NO Transformers ornaments. LAAAAAAAAME. Bucket likes enough things that I can find her an ornament just about anywhere. And Hallmark's a little out of the budget right now. So I may just scrounge at Target.

But, since I'm up before the kids are, Michael talked me into getting a shower before I have another chance to replay the fiasco that was yesterday afternoon. *rolls eyes* If the kids had just LISTENED and taken that nap, everything would have been fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.

But, yeah. I get my shower. The kids come in while I'm taking it and belting out Disney songs. I get dried off and dressed. We watch the Charlie Brown Christmas special (in which I almost fall asleep, since I've been awake since around 5 AM. TOLD YOU it's the butt-crack of dawn) ... which takes up to about 8 AM.

The kids get to eat burnt cookies for breakfast, since I really don't care. I go and start making the big bed and Bucket's bed in the kids' room (washed the sheets on the guest bed ... and Bucket had an accident a couple nights ago, which necessitated washing HER sheets again. *sigh*). And, as I went to put the fitted sheet on the big bed, I stepped in a spot of wet carpet.

I ask the kiddos what this is ... Is it pee? Is it water? And, of course, I get two different answers. Both blaming it on the other sibling. Joy. So, I turn off the show they're watching, make them lie in bed for a timeout, make the beds, and have a TALK about LYING.

Bucket eventually caves -- the wet is pee. From her. From last night. Because she was mad at Mommy and Daddy. Because we didn't read to them from The Silver Chair (which, coincidentally, was part of the punishment for the folderol that was yesterday afternoon).

Yup, this is my life, ladies and gentlemen. This is my life.

I have errands to run. Do I really feel like going out and getting gas, going into town to get my library book and a few presents, heading to Target to get ornaments, or even staying home and baking with little liars in tow?

Hells to the NO, my loves. Hells to the NO.

What I really would love, love, LOVE to do is just grab a bottomless mug of Irish Creme-flavored steamed milk, wrap myself up in a cocoon of my down comforter, and read and do crossword puzzles.

While my children leave for a prolonged trip on a space shuttle.

Although, truly, in real life, after about two hours without them, I'd start to miss them and regret sending them into deep space without a cell phone or long underwear.

So, I suppose that I really shouldn't partake in this fantasy.

Though a steamer made with Irish Creme-flavored syrup does sound utterly divine. Perhaps I can make that my reward after I clean the house and get my errands done.

I don't like being this mean, unhappy parent. It's not something I enjoy.

Why can't my children just LISTEN to me for a change? It wouldn't be half as irritating if I didn't love them and KNOW that they are really decent kids.

*sigh*

Yup, listen to me, everyone. Then call the WAAAAAAAAAAH-mbulance. Yes, I know that I'm being whiny. I'm totally aware of this. It doesn't make me any happier than it makes you.

Today would be a perfect day for a zombie uprising. Too bad that I'm too much of a wimp to use the shotgun well. (Hey, it HURTS. Especially when you don't hold it positioned properly and the kickback gets you right in the boob. OWWWWwwwWWWWwwwww. ... Not that I speak from experience or anything ... *shifty eyes*)

Okay. I better get to baking and doing the dishes and putting on a clean, dry pair of socks (to replace the pair I had to throw in the laundry. Ew.) and getting the kids ready to brave the wild outdoors. And make dinner. And get ready for the holiday. And get my Visiting Teaching done. And read my scriptures and say COPIOUS, MYRIAD PRAYERS that I'll get through this, that life will be all happy-fun-times-with-rainbows-and-unicorns ... and that I won't be tempted to throttle my dear. Little. Darling. Children.

(Ha. When I was typing "darling," I accidentally typed "darnling." Freudian slip on the keyboard, you think?)

Maybe I should be all crazy and go buy the soundtrack to Glee and sing along. It might help.