Let’s just say, like Maria, I had a crap-hole of a day.
It didn’t start out too bad. I had a cute outfit. And accessories, to boot. My hair was decent. The boys were in great moods this morning. Blah blah blah.
Work was fine, except for a minor issue with a co-worker. Can’t go into that on here but it really isn’t a huge deal- I really want to be vague about it but I won’t even attempt that as I don’t really know who is reading.
It all started when I got home, I guess. I had a great plan for the evening: get home at 4:15, get dinner ready and eat as soon as Ryan gets home. Then head over to Lowe’s to compare prices of garage door openers and entry door handle sets. We’d come home, get the boys in bed and clean the house that evening.
Wasn’t going to happen.
I drove up to the house to see garbage still sitting outside our front door from the garage sale. And a huge pile of garbage sitting outside the back door by the garage. Ryan can dump our garbage for free at his work, so we haven’t signed up for garbage service as of yet, thinking we’d save a few bucks a month since, gee… how hard is it to load a bag or two of garbage into the car on your way to work?
I walked in the house and was greeted with the lovely arouma of dog doo. Nice. I sped through the house to find out where it was and found it residing in the toy room. Great!
I brought the boys in, pushed aside my idea of getting dinner on right away, and went to town cleaning up poo. Then I realized she PEED in the toy room too (Ramsey, that is). GRR. And as I was trekking back and forth from the kitchen to playroom I realized MORE scratches on the hardwood floor in our hallway (the floor I redid just months ago!). GRARR! I grabbed the phone book and called the groomer to have Ramsey taken in and her toenails trimmed. Although I’d REALLY like to just have her freaking declawed. She’s the dumb kind of dog who always tries to run or get somewhere fast, but she can never get her body to go along with her feet. Enter: dug up wood floors.
Porter kept getting in my way, he was running around with peed on pants from LeeAnn’s (he’d tried to pee just as we were leaving and had mis-aimed and got his pants, so I just left them on and figured I’d change them as soon as we got home).
I finally got the dog stuff cleaned up and went to let the dogs out only to find Zoey had busted one of the rails on our dog gate. And then as I was getting dinner ready, Porter decided to put toilet paper in the bathroom sink and then attempt to wipe his ass with the sopping wet toilet paper.
Then Porter ran around with just a shirt, despite my numerous request to go get a pair of shorts out of his drawer. He kept trying to go outside naked and got yelled at and just plain ticked me off.
At this point I got a phone call from Ryan saying that he had to work late. Great.
I chose that moment to remember that I was nearly 3 weeks late on taking Hudson’s montly picture with his bear… so I figured while the rice was simmering and chicken was grilling I’d go snap a few photos. I got carried away and realized the chicken was still on the grill so I ran out to turn off the grill. Not burnt, but a little dry.
I really wanted to make a margarita, but I knew it’d only create more mess, more dishes for me.
We managed to eat dinner with a minimal amount of irritation, although Porter still has a hatred towards silveware. The kid can use it, but its so much faster for him to grab food and shovel it in with his hands. Damn table manners.
After dinner I attempted to clean up- the stove was disgusting after a week of meals being cooked and not being cleaned. The kitchen floor had crumbs on it sticking to my feet. The countertop was dirty and cluttered. I cleaned everythign up, swept the kitchen floor and decided why not mop it?
Well, do I have a mop? I guess not.
So, hands and knees it is, dress pants and all.
And of course since I told Porter to stay out of the kitchen it would then become the most desired place on earth to be. And as he continually runs back and forth from the dining room back around to the hallway, just to stand riiiight on the edge of the kitchen floor, asking me every 3.4 minutes “Whatcha doin’ mommy?” What the hell does it look like I’m doing? What was I doing the LAST time you asked that?
Ryan finally got home and took the kids off my hands so I could finish mopping the dining room and foyer. Err.. hand mopping, I suppose it’d be.
I finally chilled out after Ryan got a few things done on my honey-do-list and Porter got settled down with a movie.
Sigh. I hate bad days.