What a day, what a day

And it's only 2 pm.

Emma woke up on the cranky side of the bed today. By 8:15 am she'd had no less than 4 hysterical fits over such drama inducing issues as me handing her milk to drink for breakfast, whether I fixed her toast before I cut up Grant's waffle, and Grant walking into her room while she was changing.

Grant fell off our very high bed because he tried to sit down where there was no bed. Hubs lunged the length of the bed and caught Grant's heels a mere milisecond before Grant hit the floor head first. This led to hysterical scared screams by Grant, more hysterical screams from Emma (along with some running the length of the house screaming MOOOOOOOOOOOM!), and heart palpitations for Hubs. Hubs has decided he doesn't need to exercise today since that event caused him to break out in a sweat, elevate his heart rate, and increase his breathing. I decided maybe Grant shouldn't be on our bed anymore.

After all of these varied hysterics, I felt a bath was in order for the kids. A nice calming bath. They'd happily play, I'd sip my coffee. It would be dreamy.

Boy was I wrong.

I fill up the bathtub, plop Emma in, turn to take Grant to his room to undress him, hear "Mom, I have to go potty", turn back around to get her back out and see a nice yellow cloud all around her bum. Gross.

So I haul Emma out, drain the bath, listen to more hysterics around the bathtub toys getting sucked down the drain, refill the bath, plop Emma back in with a stern warning not to pee in the bath again, get Grant undressed, and plop him in. The kids play happily, I sip my coffee.

While he's playing, Grant reaches his hand up to hand me a toy. It takes me one second to look at it and think "We don't have any brown toys". It takes me two seconds to realize he's handing me poop and there is a brown cloud of water circling his bum. It takes me three seconds to realize he has bits of poop on his FACE!

I haul out Emma, who is hysterical again for no known reason because I'm reacting to the poop in the tub rather calmly. I haul Grant out, who is hysterical, probably because he's having to deal with the issue that he's now ingested fecal matter. I wrap both kids up in towels, drain the tub, clean up the toys, rinse out the tub, and declare we are taking a group shower.

Emma stops screaming because in her world, a shower is a dream come true. We troop back to the shower, Grant still in hysterics around eating poop, Emma dancing with excitement, me slightly apprehensive at how clean I'm going to get with two wiggle worms and a shower that doesn't have a door.

I was right, I didn't get very clean. I had to hold slippery little Grant the entire time. The one time I attempted to put him down in order to shampoo my hair he got hysterical and tried to run out of the shower. Remember, no door on the shower. And running on wet tile, not so safe. So I showered one handed. I wouldn't recommend it. Fortunately for me and those who have to share space with me today, I had showered last night after my run. Emma adored the shower and couldn't get enough of rinsing her hair out under the shower head. It was actually pretty cute.

At Granny's, we had to park a block away on the other side of the street in the rain on a crazy busy street, but really, that was easy peasy compared to the morning's drama.

So here I sit, blogging instead of bleaching and scrubbing the tub, tub mat, and every last bath toy we own.

I don't get paid enough.