This morning I dropped my child off at daycare with his pants on backwards. If that isn't a true indication of how this week is going, I don't know what is. In other words, things are not going well despite my best efforts
Monday was supposed to look like this:
Wake up early, workout, kiss my husband good morning, shower, look fabulous, drop my child off a daycare while chatting pleasantly with his teachers, be a total rock star at work, pick up my child with glowing reports, have a nice dinner, play sweetly and tuck my snoozing child into bed before hanging out with my husband in my clean house.
What Monday really looked like:
Was up all night with a bout of insomnia, never worked out, didn't kiss my husband because I declared him a royal jerk (long story, but really, he isn't a jerk), looked like shit on stick because I felt like it, ran out of daycare to the sounds of a screaming child that was pried off me by a somewhat horrified teacher, did okay at work, ran around like a chicken with my head cut off mostly, picked up my child from daycare (did receive a glowing report), threw food on said child's tray as I tried to make pork chops and sweet potatoes for the rest of the family, dodged flying rice and pretzels with hummus, sighed as my child felt it necessary to stick his finger in my belly button every 45 seconds, got soaked at bath time, ran out of the nursery as my child had a nighttime melt down, finally kissed my husband (jerk status revoked), pinned a bunch of hair styles on pinterest that I'll never actually do, ignored the huge mess in my kitchen and went to bed really early.
So, yeah, welcome to my week.
Today has gotten off to a better start. I was up on time, worked out, had a shower and almost had product in my hair before the shit hit the fan. One stressed out husband, breakfast and 15 toddler melt downs later, I made it to work on time. Ryan's pants are probably still on backwards but he's happily playing with his friends at daycare.
All in all, we're doing just fine.
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