Is This Really Happening?

I should have never gotten out of bed this morning. I knew it the moment I opened my eyes and felt that "good morning to you too headache." I knew it when I almost put Nutella on a turkey sandwich and spilled half the water while making my coffee. It was a day riddled with "is this really happening?" A day that I could not make up if I wanted to. Let me explain. I watch two little girls, two days a week. The 3 year old we will call "G". The 20 month old we will call "Els" (so to prevent embarrassment from any future suitors). Most days with these two go off without a hitch, throw in a few butt wipes and some fight prevention and it's a day. Well, that was not the case for this day. Let's start with G. She naps in a pull up. Today she pooped in said pull up. G is potty trained. So I asked her what happened. G said, "I was awake, but didn't want to get up and use the potty." Hey, we've all had those days, who am I to judge? I simply clean up the mess, including G's "poopy buns", per her request. Now it's Els turn. Els is not potty trained, but is in a taking off her diaper phase, which is usually averted by making sure she has pants on. Els has now moved to a taking off her pants phase. After nap (or at least I hope it was after nap and the child did not sleep in her own filth), Els decides to use her mad clothing/diaper removal skills and have some paint time in her playpen. If you are an easy gagger, you may want to skip to the end. So I throw Els in the tub, clean the poopy child off (it was even on her nose), all the while listening to Emma gag in the corner and just hoping there is not another bodily fluid to clean up. Emma manages to keep it together and as I get Els dressed I gather up the "painted" laundry (including Olivia the pig and 2 baby dolls) and as I head to the washer, the decimated diaper falls out of the bundle and lands open on the kitchen tile. Hey, at least it wasn't the carpet right?! Now the kids are clean (and so is the tub), the laundry is in and I can sit down for five mins, or maybe get a glass of water. I'm sitting, I'm sipping (and imagining it's wine)......1 minute, 2...."mommy, poo poo!" Which means Emma the princess is on the toilet and needs her butt wiped. Wow, is this really happening? 3 minutes later Julianna says..."mommy I think Els is stinky." Well why wouldn't she be??? Oh and she also already has her pants off! Thank goodness I got to her before the diaper removal. PHEW! After a quick change, daddy comes to get them, and I can't get the wine poured into my glass fast enough. Two sips later, I start dinner for my girls. It's some boxed fettuccine noodle crap (organic and all natural I may add). Perhaps at this point I should have realized I had no food in my stomach. One glass of wine later, the organic and all natural fettuccine crap has boiled over and spilled its entire contents onto the stove. Oh look, something else to clean up. As I stand over my stove trying to salvage dinner and fighting the tears, I decide, as any rational person would, to order pizza. My decision is met with cheers from the crowd, or maybe it was just my kids, wine on an empty stomach remember! In the 20 minutes that we wait for the pizza I also manage to knock over my wine glass (don't worry none was wasted, it was empty) and break it. Oh look, something else for me to clean up. I then leave my older two at home and Em's and I walk to the deli to get the pizza. Now don't go freaking out on me people, the deli is 1 block away, we have a big scary watch dog, probably live in the safest neighborhood ever, and I locked the doors. Anyways, we are almost to the deli and I trip, fall, land in the dirt, on my face. I manage to get up and dust myself off before Em's notices. Which is a good thing, cuz she laughs hysterically when people fall (she gets that from me). We return home to the cheering crowd, dish up our food, and Victoria tells me she wants to try the organic and all natural fettuccine crap which I just let keep cooking, while I was cleaning up the broken wine glass and waiting for the deli pizza. So I grab a bowl for my daughter and on it's way down from the high cabinet (yes high, I am 5'2), I smack myself in the head with it. At this point it is clear that I am done. I don't know what else could possibly go wrong. I finish dinner, cautiously and put the girls to bed, carefully. I guess now I should push enter before we lose power or the computer blows up, but first another glass of wine!