fucking tuesday.

Tuesday. 
8 am - 2 pm.

Wake up.

Strap Buster into Ergo.

Drink a cup of coffee. Eat a bowl of cereal.

Kiss Ryan good-bye. He's taking the car today.

Start to unload clean dishes.

Chicken calls out "door open!"

Open Chicken's door.

Pop a waffle in the toaster for Chicken's breakfast.

Chicken pulls out a bowl and the cereal box.

Give Chicken measuring cup, teach him to scoop three scoops of cereal into his bowl. Think aw, this is fun.

Ignore first meltdown of the day when the cereal goes up on the counter after a measly three scoops.

Continue to ignore escalating meltdown while gritting teeth and spreading jam and cream cheese on toaster waffle. Take a chance and cut waffle like a pizza, not like french fries. This. Is risky.

Chance pays off. Pizzajamcreamcheesewaffle ends meltdown. Chicken eats breakfast.

Invite Chicken to help get dinner ready in the slow cooker. Pull up a chair and let him dump chopped vegetables in the pot. Give him some broth to pour in, a can of italian seasoning to shake over the soup, and a spoon to give it a big stir-stir-stir. Chicken is cooperative and delightful. He squeals with joy when some broth splashes on his cheek. He names all the vegetables, even zucchini. He says "please" without being reminded. The morning sun is a glimmering jewel through our old, warped windows.

Buster shits his body weight. In his pants. On his pants. On my shirt. Alllll over the Ergo. On the diaper changing table.

Put Chicken in his crib with a singing electronic toy house that we keep on a high shelf for just such a shit-dripping emergency.

Strip off shirt, the Ergo, the diaper changing pad, and Buster's clothes. Check clock and see 6 minutes before friends are due to arrive for play date. Clean shit from Buster's feet, legs, ass, nuts, belly, back, elbows, fingernails, shoulders, ears, and hair. Redress Buster, lay him in the middle of the bed.

Run downstairs topless with an armload of shit-smeared textiles. Put in washer. Discover the load in the dryer from 3 days ago never got dry. Add the room-temperature damp mildew load to the shit load, with 3 washer pacs, a cup of vinegar, extra hot water. Hear the house toy still singing upstairs, so remain reasonably confident that Chicken is still in his crib. Hear Buster still crying, but at least Chicken isn't sitting on his chest or tickling his eyes.

Run back upstairs, pull on a shirt - light pink shirt, black bra, who the fuck cares. Chicken starts to scream "GET OUT!" as soon as he sees me, throws a leg over the top rail of his crib. Buster is still crying.

Pick up Buster. Go into Chicken's room. Put down Buster. Pick up Chicken. Put down Chicken. Pick up Buster.

Throw feta cheese, smoked salmon, applesauce, and chips on a plate for Chicken's lunch. Continue to hold Buster on shoulder.

Chicken would like to scoop some cereal for lunch. Give self opposite of pep talk for introducing this "cute new game" this morning. Still holding Buster, squat down to hold cereal box so Chicken can scoop. Each scoop takes approximately 28 minutes. Ignore muscle cramp in hamstring. Start to panic and attempt to "calculate" (pull out of ass) length of time it will take for Ergo to both wash and dry.

Friends arrive. Attempt to look like shit is together. Lie Buster down on kitchen table to help Chicken into booster seat. Shit is obviously not together. Explain blowout situation. Realize it doesn't sound that bad.

Chicken eats chips. Pass Buster to friend. Take Chicken into bedroom for "binky time."

Change Chicken's diaper, read 4 stories, lie him down in bed, assume that this nap is going to go fine.

Realize folly of inviting friends and their toddlers over to play immediately before Chicken's naptime.

Attempt to conduct an adult conversation with friends for 90 minutes while listening to Chicken conduct a full conversation with himself and occasionally scream "DOOR OPEN!"

Finally relent, pass Buster back to friend, get Chicken up from "nap."

Insist friends do not apologize for Chicken's no-nap. Begin shame and panic spiral when adding up the number of hours that need to be filled with one-handed, car-free toddler entertainment until the Ergo is clean and dry.

Friends leave. Realize that no food was at any time offered to guests. Accept savagery of current life situation. Accept that today is 80% fail.

Turn on Monsters Inc.

Give Chicken a sippy cup of milk, and nurse Buster to sleep.

Lie Buster down on the floor, still cuddled up in the Boppy, and use a second pillow under his belly to keep him propped up on his side. Fake mommy successfully created. Buster believes he is still sleeping on a human. Congratulate self for genius idea and flawless execution. Laugh at dumb baby. Take picture.

Eat two slices of chocolate cake while doing the dishes. Call that lunch.

Change out laundry, put Ergo in dryer. Check on Chicken and Buster.

Chicken is now soaking wet and holding an empty, lidless sippy cup.

Clean milk from the cracks between the couch cushions.
Clean milk from Monsters Inc. case.
Clean milk from TV remote.
Change Chicken's clothes.

Fold a load of laundry. Monsters Inc ends.

Attempt to explain that Chicken can't drive the car because Daddy is driving the car.

"THE CAR IS NOT HERE SO YOU CANNOT DRIVE IT.
BECAUSE DADDY IS GONE,
AND THE CAR IS GONE.
DADDY IS DRIVING THE CAR.
AWAY FROM HERE.
FAR, FAR AWAY.
BOTH THE CAR AND DADDY ARE GONE.
GONE.
GONE."

Realize it sounds a little more severe than was intended.

See Buster start to rouse, know it's only a matter of seconds before he realizes that he's been had and the fake mom pillow is not full of hot milk.

Restart Monsters Inc.

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