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Mama said there’d be days like this…

This picture is metaphorical… Lamp represents me and 3 year old is the bad day.
It started in the wee hours of the morning with a baby who has been waking up much more than usual.  (I’m chalking it up to a growth spurt.)  1:30, 4:00, 5:30, 6:30, 7:30….it was the 5:30 feeding specifically in which I asked the Mr. if he wouldn’t mind getting up with our darling daughter who seems to be in some sort of distress.  He obliged.  In addition to the usual hunger pangs, she also had a blowout.  I guess I picked the right wake-up to ask for help.  As I caught a few zzzzz’s on and off for the next few hours I was finally summoned to officially get out of bed when my husband came to tell me he was late for work and the 3 year old pee’d on the couch.  Oh goody.  It’s like I always say, There’s nothing like waking up to a freshly pee’d on couch.  Aaahhhh!  Apparently she was sitting on the couch having some cereal–a usual morning ritual–when she told dada, I’m going to go change my underwear.  I pee’d in my pants just a little.  And in case he didn’t believe her the first time, she emphasized it a second time… just a little dada.  He looked over at the couch where she had strategically placed a kitchen towel.  Clever.  But I don’t think she understands she’s dealing with a Columbia graduate here.  He quickly removed the towel to discover that ‘just a little’ meant the entire contents of her bladder over a 12 hour brewing period.  He sent her to time out because clearly she was just being lazy.  Who can blame her?  Haven’t we all wanted a combo couch/potty when we didn’t want to be disturbed during Curious George?  So there was that.  
When the Lampstress woke up she was chipper as usual.  We took the 3 year old to preschool and came home.  Lampy went down for a nap and when she woke up I discovered blow out number 2.  Since she needed a bath anyway from the previous blowout it was sorta perfect timing.  About 5 minutes before having to leave to pick up the 3 year old from preschool I was on the phone with my hubs.  I told him about this mornings fun time cleaning up the pee-pee couch and the blow-out baby, when suddenly I bent down and rrrrrrrrrip.  Oh no…please tell me that’s not my jeans.  Please tell me I didn’t just rip my jeans.  I didn’t.  Just my underwear.  Awesome.  The husband laughed and prophetically said, It’s going to be a bad day.   I laughed and told him I had to leave to go pick up little miss pee-pee pants from preschool.  And this is where things get really awesome. 
With Lamp asleep in her carseat we head out the door.  I turn on the car to get it warmed up and dump all my belongings inside.  Before I know it I’ve locked my keys in the car.  Yes in the car that is running.  My cell phone is also in the car.  And of course my house keys.  The car is locked (and running!).  The house is locked.  And I have about 3 minutes to get to the preschool to pick up my 3 year old.  Luckily I didn’t lock the baby in the car, but she does wake up and start crying.  Perfect.  I run to the neighbors house to use their phone.  Not home.  I’m kind of freaking out.  I have no idea what to do.  I can’t call anyone.  I can’t go anywhere.  Then I see the stroller on the front porch.  I put the car seat in it and start booking it down the street.  Now in New York seeing a lady running down the street with a stroller (not in running gear) wouldn’t be that weird.  It was a little weird here.  As people were driving by they were definitely looking at me.  Not that I cared about that, but seriously?  Is this really happening?  I mean I’m pretty lucky that we don’t live that far from the preschool, but still.  I was about 10 minutes late–which was rather impressive.  I explained myself and of course the teachers were very understanding.  3 year old didn’t care…she was having fun.  I used the phone to call my friend Tricia and my husband.  He laughed.  (Side note: Tricia should probably stop picking up the phone when she sees our number because 4 out of 5 times I’m in some sort of peril.  She has come to my rescue more times than I can even count.  Seriously.  Thanks again Tricia.)  
Since the husband had to come home to unlock the house and get the extra car keys he decided to stay for lunch.  Which was going just find until the 3 year old spilled a full bowl of soup all over the chair, floor and rug.  At this point we just cracked up.  It was getting ridiculous.  My final beating from the bad day fairy was the white clothes that turned pink due to some red pants in the laundry.  Fortunately they belong to the 3 year old, so I don’t think she’ll mind too much.   
So there it is….my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. 
 It could be worse…
  
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