If I had more than one Monday per week, I'd throw myself in front of a bus. Not that I'm complaining...okay, I'm complaining. My day went off a little like this:
5am - alarm goes off, I hit the kitchen to make Red's breakfast so he can be out the door to work by 6. I figure I'll have some time before the kids wake up, so I don't bother to shower.
5:55am - Pink wakes up. With a full-fledged screaming fit. As only a 2-yr-old can manage. Red leaves for work, I try to get Pink back to sleep.
7am - after an hour of futility, I give up and take Pink into the bathroom with me while I shower. She trashes the room, and makes a very stinky diaper.
7:30am - Blue is up, I've managed a bathrobe, and a diaper change, and now we are struggling to make our 9am Dr's appointment (yes, it takes me that long to get two kids out of the house by myself).
8am - the last 30 minutes are a blur, I've been comforting a grumpy Pink, switching laundry loads, and trying to get two uncooperative kids to breakfast. I get the call "Mom, I need help" from the bathroom. I find a puddle, and Blue explaining that he waited too long. Sigh. Find the papertowels and clorox wipes. Discover that the toilet is clogged (curse these low-flow comodes), and find the plunger.
8:15am - now we're really behind. They're eating breakfast (or what passes for breakfast these days).
8:45am - We've all managed clothes, shoes, coats, my hair is at least dry and I've painted concealer over the bags under my eyes. Out the door we go. I've only yelled a couple of times, but I feel really bad about it. I always do. Mornings suck.
8:55am - we made it to the Pediatrician. The nurses are outside, waiting for someone to unlock the door - guess we're all having a bad Monday.
9am - finally, we're in. Pediatrician visit, checked off the list. Everything is fine (well, except for the sleeping and the choking hazards that Pink calls breakfast).
10am-2pm - pretty good hours, we hit storytime at the library, check out some new books, manage a decent lunch, read a couple of stories, and decide that we really can't make it one more day without milk (and other groceries).
3pm - about half-way through grocery shopping at (sigh) Walmart, Pink can't take anymore. She's a screaming, crying mess. I pick her up, and maneuver the SUV that passes for a 2-child-seat shopping cart with one hand/hip while holding her with the other. She promptly falls asleep. I beg Blue to get out of the cart and help me push. He tries, but this thing is massively heavy. We get the last of the essentials and abandon the rest of the list. We drag/pull/push ourselves to the checkout. We shop at the nicest, friendliest Walmart in the world (no kidding). The cashier comes out of the checkstand and helps me get the stuff on the conveyor belt, and a super nice bagger drags all the stuff to my car and loads it in while talking to Blue about preschool. I'm thankful, but my arms are numb from carrying 27 pounds of sleeping toddler.
4pm - 8pm - groceries away (sounds minor, takes a miracle), dinner made, dinner eaten, story time, bath time, bedtime (more screaming from Pink - I swear she's going to be a distance swimmer with those lungs), and finally, silence. And a text from Red that he's on his way home. Hooray - he's the only thing that keeps me sane!