Today has been one of those days...
you know the kind:
Where your baby can sign 'milk', but not 'no'. So instead, he starts spitting baby food in your face when he is done. No warning. Just peas. In your face.
And he nurses so much at night that you are engorged all day so you capture is wiggly little bottom to make him nurse and it is a lot like giving a cat a bubble bath. Useless and exhausting.
And the neighbor's kids ring the door bell again during your kids naps-- again, as in more than 5-- maybe 10 times.... and every time, you open the door like a scene in a movie, just enough to show the anger on your face... and you talk through your teeth hoping they will just start spreading the word that you are the mean-neighbor-lady and will stop knocking every day, but they don't get it -obviously... and will probably do it again tomorrow.
And you make a last second move (while you are already running late) to put up the cold stuff from lunch and you drop sour cream all over the freshly cleaned kitchen. Onto cabinets, appliances, walls, your scrubs-- a 16 ounce container... and your husband would rather rub dog crap on his face than touch sour cream so you have to stay and clean it and you are late for work.
And your kid says "damn frik'n"... and you know it is your fault.
And you get your feelings hurt over something dumb, but no one cares to simply pat your back. When it is a simple fix. And they signed up for the job. And you pat their back, a lot. So instead of getting over it, you think about the next time you can return the favor. And you will. (or at least you tell yourself that)
And then you cry in your car. By yourself. Like a little girl. While it is raining outside. But then you laugh because you think that this would have made a great scene in 'Boy Meets World'...
But you have to suck it up and put your big girl panties on because your pager is going off and you have to comfort everyone else.
And though you are on call-- and your pager is ringing non-stop-- your husband goes to bed leaving both kids to drive you crazy.
You get the big one down but the little one stays pulled up in his crib wailing out through the bars as if he as been sentenced for an unfair trail.
You try pretending you are on an island, drinking something fruity-- and block it all out. But that baby is still crying and you can still see the laundry needing to be folded, and you accidentally drop your ridiculously expensive camera into the floor... so it is useless.
So you laugh.
What else can you do?
Maybe you don't know the days.
But maybe you know these villains??
No worries if you don't...
I know a real live super-hero who can help me find them.
[he takes this job seriously... even if he can only find one shoe!]
I'm ready for tomorrow.