Stunday

Apparently, I am stunned today.

Hence, Stunday.

I'd like to take this time to sheepishly retract any statements made about "not minding" the time change, or that Mondays "aren't so bad" and will gingerly place my right foot in my mouth. I knew I should have gone for that pedicure. 

Blergh.

The whole shitstorm of this morning really began yesterday around 4:25 pm when I glanced into the backseat and saw F leaning back in his carseat, half-eaten bag of Lays ketchup chips in his hand, mouth wide open, fast asleep. It was just too cute to disturb, so I decided I'd let him have an hour. Which turned into two. And a half.

Then it came bedtime, at 8:30. Four hours after he'd drifted off to sleep in the car, there wasn't an ounce of sleepiness in my child. He bounced and rolled and tossed and turned and giggled and talked and pretended to snore and yelled at the cat and OH MY GOSH MAMA WHERE IS MY LEGO until I finally put a pillow over my head and rolled over. At 10:45 pm.

And then my alarm went off at 5:30 am and I muttered a few four-letter-words before hitting snooze and declaring it a "bad hair Monday". But then, without warning, it was 6 am and I really needed to get moving. Bright-eyed and bushy tailed, F sat up and asked if the game I'd told him I'd download but didn't really (thanks Mom!) was ready to play with. So then, I had to buy the app because HE NEEDED IT OH MY GOODNESS MAMA. And I would like to teach him that keeping our promises is a thing, too. 

So I made coffee, and without looking at it before I started making out with the cup (staring is rude, you guys), I missed the fact that the cream had curdled and you can pretty well guess how that ended. Related: I need to scrub my kitchen cupboards when I get home today.

And then, at 7:20 - undercaffeinated but wearing clothes - I was so sure that I had everything we could possibly need for my first day of my last week of work, and F even had his pants pulled up and boots on the right feet. Out the door ten minutes late, and yet at preschool on time because Mama went rogue and made a U-turn on Herring Cove Road because it's Monday and I'm crazy like that... and I realized we had no snow pants.

If anyone needs me, I'm setting up an IV Keurig drip. And then going home to find those cursed snow pants so my kid doesn't have to sit inside by himself. 

Pizza Delivery

Dear pizza delivery guy who rang my doorbell at 9:55pm on a Wednesday,

Firstly, I hope you liked my blue snowflake underwear. I was so disoriented by my wake-up that I couldn't even find clothes. For the record, I thought it was the middle of the night and that there was some kind of emergency. Everyone knows you don't need pants in an emergency (or something like that).

Second, thank-you for ringing not once, not twice but four times while I ran around trying to find pants and waking my three-year-old. Usually when people don't answer right away, it's for a reason. It took me two hours to get him settled down.

 

Lastly, when you arrive at my door saying "Pizza Delivery" and I tell you have the wrong door, don't look at me like I'm an idiot and ask me if I'm sure. 

I am not wearing pants and I couldn't find my glasses in the sleep-fogged confusion between my bed and my door. I have bed head and my mascara that I should have washed off an hour ago is smeared across my face. I'm squinting to see you. There is also a pantless toddler in a yellow shirt asking if there's a fire. Do we look like we ordered pizza? No. 

Also, don't ask me if I know who ordered pizza. There are 40 units in this building. Tell your order-person to figure their shit out. 

Sincerely,

An over-tired, cranky Mommy with under-eye circles and a surplus of coffee.

PS I hope you found that apartment and got a tip before the pizza got cold. Asshat.