Bottoms up!

So...how did your day start?

....Yep, that's great and all. But let me tell you about mine. All in the span of 45 glorious minutes:

The little guy wants waffles for breakfast. No big deal. Leggo My Eggo is our morning mantra around here. So I head to the basement to check out the waffle situation in our chest freezer.

I open the lid and promptly yell, "$hit!"

Everything was a dandy, lukewarm tub of goo rather than a frozen block of goodness. The $50 pork loin in the corner? Done. Bags of frozen veggies? No longer of the frozen variety. Ice cream? Gone. Steaks? Gone. Waffles? Gone. Everything gone, gone, gone.

Great. Just great. I slam down the lid and go back upstairs.

I break the news to my son that Eggos are a No-go. He takes the news WAAAAY better than I did. Didn't even yell "$hit" or anything. It's a testament to his fine upbringing.

He then asks for yogurt of the SpongeBob variety instead. Yeah for SpongeBob!

Five minutes later? I hear, "MOM!!!!!!"

A quick look reveals said SpongeBob yogurt plastered all over his shirt. It's blue. The yogurt, not the shirt. Not that it really matters. Just trying to paint you a picture....

So I think, $hit. Screw you, SpongeBob. And how in the hell does a 6-year-old boy spill yogurt?! Did he have a stroke? Forget where his mouth was? To quote John McEnroe: "You CANNOT be serious!"

Somehow I get the shirt off over his head without creating a bigger mess. Throw everything into the kitchen sink. And that's when I see the ants. Tiny, little bugger bugs walking all over my counter as if they own the damn thing.

Oh.

I don't so.

So I proceed to slaughter the ants with a shoe, taking no prisoners and yelling "$hit" over and over and over again while I tell my son to go put his own shoes on because we're late and Mom doesn't have time for a nervous breakdown today.

He returns, shoes in hand and I shove them on this feet. He then has his OWN nervous breakdown because the shoes aren't tied the way he wants them.

OK. So he wants to be cool like the big kids and tie the strings in a knot near the ankles, shoving the remaining length into his shoes so he can just slip them on without tying them.

Problem? The sneakers always feel too loose on his feet. He takes one step then has a meltdown 'cuz they don't feel right.

Newsflash, Kiddo: SNEAKERS WERE NOT MADE TO BE TIED THAT WAY! GET OVER IT!

I grabbed the sneakers, tied knots that would have impressed the world's best sailor (whoever that is), picked up my son and threw...er...placed, I mean gently placed...his SpongeBob-loving self in the car.

Today. Today is the day I start drinking.