Ok.  So this morning I woke up with a slight headache and a really dry mouth.  I wondered why, and then I remembered that my husband and I decided to consume an entire bottle of pinot noir last night at around midnight.  Oh yeah….not the best idea on a Sunday night.  But at the time, it was fantastic.  And when do we get to have a bottle of wine to ourselves??

I buttoned my daughter’s pants for her sleepily as I realized that yes, I did have to get out of bed.  My compliant husband stumbled to the kitchen to make my demanding self coffee.  What a sweet love.  I rolled out of bed and decided that I was not showering today.  It was a decision based on two things…

1.  I did not have time if we were going to get the truck into the shop at it’s appointed time.

2.  I did not give a shit.

Ugh.  I thought about my to do list for the day, which includes several things (one of which is writing this blog).  I had to feed the dog, dress the boy, make a grocery list, go to the grocery store (maybe), do at least 5 loads of laundry, write an outline for an abnormal psych paper, do my homework for my online class, sweep the floor, mop it if I have time, go running, shower (by this point it will be an absolute necessity), work on my grad school application, take the dog for a walk, go to class at 3, make dinner, which I should really pull out of the freezer right now, get the kids to clean their rooms, help the girl with her homework….this list is growing as I type.  I think I’ll stop now.

Anyway, about 5 minutes before my kindergartener had to be in class I had to declothe her.  Why?  Well, she was wearing the same pants that she has been wearing for approximately a week now.  I still can’t understand why she chooses the same clothes over and over and over again.  She’s my little hobo in training.  Gotta love it.

Em finally finishes getting dressed and I pull on a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt and brush the foul odor out of my mouth.  I wash my face and contemplate how to attack the day.  I hear a squeal from my son as I scrub away, trying to erase the years that are adding exponentially onto my face.  He is climbing into the refrigerator and has two yogurts in hand.

“Bubba, Daddy is gonna take us out to breakfast.”

“I want to eat!”

“Okay, but Daddy is going to take us out to eat.”

“I want waffles!”

The yogurt finally gets relinquished as my son contemplates the idea of waffles, eggs, and orange juice.  I look at his chubby face and laugh to myself as I realize that there might just be another bottle of wine in store for us tonight.

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